So It Went
by MyLadyScribbler
Summary: Maggie Clarke, Ducky's (now-widowed) old love, has come over from England on a visit, so she and Ducky can continue renewing their friendship and figuring out their relationship status. Are they just friends, or more-than-friends? But their reunion is complicated by the NCIS team's investigation into a missing naval officer, and a skeleton dug up at a Virginia construction site.
1. X Marks the Spot

What would happen if Ducky and Maggie Clarke kept in touch after the events of the Season 12 episode "So It Goes?" What would happen if Maggie came to the United States on a visit and met the rest of the team?

This is going to be a rather long story - as it stands, we're looking at fifteen chapters at least. I'll have updates posted as often as I can, barring complications from work and grad school and writer's block. So bear with me, gentle readers.

Disclaimers, etc. I do not own the NCIS characters. Certain real-life towns and cities are mentioned, for a bit of verisimilitude - but this is not to imply that NCIS-level capers are a regular occurrence in those places, of course.

 **Chapter One: X Marks the Spot**

 _Vienna, Virginia, March 3_

"All right, guys, let's start bringing in that backhoe!" Dan Connors yelled over the noises of grinding winches and rumbling construction equipment.

The backhoe started beeping as it backed its way across the makeshift gravel parking lot and onto the acre of muddy, mostly-cleared land on the edge of town: the future site of Gleason and Associates' new office complex, according to the big plywood sign.

"Bring her in there," Connors pointed to a patch of muddy ground and mulch that had been marked at different intervals with little orange flags and spray-painted X's.

The backhoe rumbled into position and started digging steadily away at the marked spot.

 _Too cold to be doing work like this_ , Connors thought miserably as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. Too cold and wet and gray and nasty. Excavation work was best done in the spring – real spring, with warm weather and sunshine – but the property owners and the future occupants had been chomping at the bit to get this one started, between all the delays with the planning board.

Oh, well, he'd treat himself to a few beers once the shift was over, and a big basket of onion rings to go with, and…

"Hang on, the hoe brought up something," the second foreman said.

Connors frowned as he signaled for the hoe operator to stop. The hoe's bucket had deposited something on top of the slowly increasing pile of dirt. It looked like…what was it, a bundle of garbage? Old debris from a past construction job?

On closer inspection, it was a long bundle of something wrapped in dirty plastic sheeting secured with duct tape.

"Go see what it is, Bobby," Connors said.

One of the workers pulled out a pocket knife and used it to peel away some of the duct tape and sheeting, and suddenly backed away. "Oh my God!"

"What the hell's the matter?" Connors asked.

Bobby turned around, pale with fright. "There's a skeleton in here!"

The rest of the construction crew hurried over and huddled in to get a look.

The plastic had peeled away to reveal what was definitely a human skeleton with its arms – or what had been its arms – folded loosely across its chest. And what had been the skull had been smashed to pieces.

The skeleton had some pieces of dirty metal hanging from a chain around its neck, and a few more pieces of metal, some of them with frayed ribbon attached to them, lay loose inside the skeleton's wrappings.

Connors took a deep breath. He'd been a petty officer on the U.S.S. _Granville_ before going into construction. He knew what those pieces of metal were.

"Call the cops. And tell them to call NCIS."

 **xNCISx**

More to come. Reviews welcome! Keep it civil, though.


	2. Dear Donnie, Dear Maggie

Okay! The first chapter was a short one, more like a prologue. From here on out, the chapters are going to get considerably longer, so I'm probably going to pace myself a bit in between postings. But now, we meet up with Maggie - and get a healthy dose of exposition.

 **Chapter Two: "Dear Donnie…Dear Maggie…"**

 _Maggie Clarke's home, St. John's Wood, London, Feb. 28 – five days earlier_

The burgundy leather suitcase lay open on the bed in the master bedroom in Maggie Clarke's house.

Maggie crossed to and fro between her wardrobe and dresser and the bed, adding items of clothing to the suitcase, and trying to ignore the increasingly nagging voice inside her head.

 _"Don't be silly, Maggie,"_ her friend Beryl had said when they'd met for tea a few days before.

Maggie added a few turtlenecks, a silk blouse and her favorite walking shoes to the suitcase.

Beryl had added her customary three lumps of sugar to her tea, clattered the silver spoon around in the cup and wagged the spoon at Maggie like a teacher lecturing a disappointing pupil. _"Nothing good ever comes of trying to revive an old love affair. And yours never even got started, besides that one kiss at his going away party."_

Maggie checked the contents of her jewelry pouch – a few necklaces, several earrings, a couple of silver hair combs – and put it into the suitcase's outer pocket.

 _"He's changed! You've changed! Think of what the years do to a person!"_ Beryl had prattled on. _"And doesn't he talk to corpses? I'd make inquiries into his mental state if I were you, Maggie Clarke!"_

Maggie closed the suitcase – or rather, slammed it shut.

 _Put a sock in it, Beryl,_ she thought darkly.

She straightened up and stretched her arms over her head, working the kinks out of her back as she looked around the room.

She'd called the house in St. John's Wood home for about six months. After Angus's death, she'd immediately sold the Clarke house in Beaconsfield – ignoring the howls of protest from some of Angus's relatives – and moved to London when a friend told her that the house just off the St. John's Wood high street was going up for sale.

Maggie lifted the suitcase off of the bed, set it by the door and headed downstairs to her library and study.

Her desk – a finely carved Victorian-era walnut desk that she had acquired nine years ago during one of the quieter auctions at Christie's – was arranged so that it faced the window overlooking the street.

The rest of the room was tidy but the desk's surface – the part that wasn't taken up by her laptop and printer – was a litter of papers and odds and ends. Legal documents. Letters from different auction houses and groups for whom she acted as a consultant. A scattering of her business cards: "M.J. Clarke, licensed appraiser of antiques."

For you see, several years before, Maggie had started to embark on a new career path, one that was less stressful - and much more rewarding - than dealing with the machinations of Angus's business.

She sat down at the desk, powered up the computer and checked her email. She found the confirmation emails from British Airways and Amtrak, printed them out and tucked them away in her purse with her passport. Then she turned her attention to the five new messages in the inbox.

There was one from her niece Bryony. Two were from her solicitors, Campbell and Croasdell. One was from her old friend Julia Bradley, who now lived in the D.C. area and wanted Maggie to come visit her at the antiques shop she owned there.

And there was one email sent from a very familiar NCIS address.

Maggie clicked on it and read it, smiling at the latest anecdotes that Donnie shared from his work as the team's chief medical examiner.

Tony had publicly called Gibbs "old-timer" and earned a rather resounding smack upside the head for it. McGee was working on another novel under the _nom de plume_ of Thom E. Gemcity, and trying hard to keep it a secret from Tony. Abby had offered to look after a friend's ferrets, and then had spent an entire afternoon chasing the little rascals all over the building.

 _What interesting people you work with, Donnie,_ Maggie thought.

"As for Mr. Palmer and myself, we try to do what we can for our guests. They always have a lot to tell us; it's simply a matter of listening properly," Donnie continued in the email.

Guests. That was a rather interesting term that Donnie had for the myriad corpses that ended up on his autopsy tables during the average week. But also rather touching; he remembered that they'd been living, breathing people once.

Why, she remembered when the London coroner had talked to him during the postmortem on…

Maggie shook her head sharply, trying to head off that train of thought before it entered the station.

Rare were the days that she didn't find herself reflecting on the forces of chaos that had taken Angus Clarke out of her life – and brought Donnie Mallard back into it.

She and Angus had been Mr. and Mrs. Clarke in name only for the last ten years of their marriage, a union that never should have taken place to begin with. In September, she finally decided that she'd had enough and gone to her solicitors to have the divorce papers drawn up. But the discovery of Angus's body in the river, while saving her the expense of a divorce, had been unexpectedly painful.

At the end of the day, however, Maggie Clarke was a free woman. And she'd been rather surprised to learn that Donnie had never married.

They'd gone their separate ways, he back to Washington and NCIS, she to continue carving out her new life in London. But they'd exchanged phone numbers and email addresses during that last moment together by the Thames, and the two of them had regularly kept in touch.

There had been plenty of letters and emails, and the occasional phone call. Most of it was of the "hello-darling-how-was-your-day" variety. And there had been gifts and cards in the mail during the holidays.

But Maggie and Donnie had, for the most part, avoided talking about Angus and the confrontation with Gareth Godfrey. It was still too difficult.

That wasn't the only subject they were tiptoeing around, for that matter.

And then came the email that she had sent him about a month before.

 _"Donnie, I'll be coming to New York on business in early March. I'm not sure what your timetable will look like, but would you like to get together sometime, either there or in Washington?"_

The reply had been almost instantaneous, winging its way across an ocean and five time zones. _"Maggie, my dear, I am overjoyed to hear that you will be gracing this side of the Atlantic with your presence. If I might tempt you to join me for a few days here along the Potomac, I can recommend any number of museums and parks to visit, and the Acela is a good fast train."_

 _"Donnie, you haven't changed a jot,"_ Maggie had replied. _"You would recommend taking the train instead of flying."_ And who would have thought that he'd come to treasure that wretched bow tie she'd given him?

He still loved her, she could tell. And she'd admitted that she'd loved him first and best. But something was holding both of them back, and it wasn't just the geographical distance.

 _Is this how it's going to be?_ Maggie wondered with more than a touch of melancholy. _A long-distance romance with all our words of love exchanged via email? Is it even a romance or just a fond friendship?_

 _Who are we to each other?_

Maggie turned off her computer and gazed out into the deepening late winter twilight. It was a conversation that she and Donnie were going to have to have sooner rather than later.

 **xNCISx**

Reviews welcome! (Ducky and the gang will be along in the next chapter.)


	3. Grab Your Gear!

**Chapter Three: "Grab Your Gear!"**

 _NCIS Headquarters, Washington, D.C., March 3_

The minute the elevator doors slid open on the NCIS bullpen that morning, Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard knew that he'd arrived in time to hear the Major Case Response Team's customary morning squabble.

"Tony, you give that back right now!"

"How could you, McGeek? Or should I say, _Mr. Gemcity?_ " Tony spoke these last two words with an edge to his voice.

"That external hard drive's got my manuscripts on it! If you damage it, so help me, I'll…"

"You think I couldn't tell that was supposed to be me in chapter four? Me and that hot blonde dental assistant I had a date with once? You're awful at disguising things, Mr. Bestseller!"

"Blonde dental assistant? I thought it was the red-headed bank teller you'd gone out with!"

WHAP!

There came the sound of hands colliding with heads – in stereo – as Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs executed a perfectly-timed double head slap on the back of Tony and McGee's respective craniums.

"Now if you two boneheads don't sit down and shut up, Ducky's going to have two more patients downstairs," Gibbs said in a tone that brooked no argument. "And where's Bishop?"

"Stuck in – ow – traffic. She'll be here ASAP," McGee said as he sat down, rubbing his head.

 _Oh, they're in rare form this morning_ , Ducky thought as he took a long sip from his steaming hot mug of Earl Grey.

He'd stopped in the autopsy suite downstairs to hang up his coat, say good morning to Palmer and check his email.

As the computer booted up, he brought his tea-making supplies – two-cup china pot, timer, strainer and embossed tin of tea leaves – down from the shelf over his desk, filled up the electric kettle and started it boiling.

It was these little rituals that helped him prepare mentally for what lay ahead: slogging through crime scenes in all sorts of weather, performing countless liver probes and Y-incisions, waiting on DNA test results that always seemed to take forever, and dealing with whatever other apples of discord got tossed into the team's midst.

Ducky logged into his account on the NCIS email network. There were a few new messages.

One was from Ziva, sending her regards and giving a quick update on life. "I love and miss all of you. Especially Tony...when I started with NCIS I never thought I'd find myself writing that, not in a million years."

One was from Spencer Reid over at the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. It was about that paper the two of them would be co-presenting at the forensic psychology conference in Alexandria later in the spring.

Two from Gibbs, one from Vance – oh, yes, that meeting upstairs in fifteen minutes – and one from…

Ducky quickly put down his mug of tea and opened the email. It was from Maggie.

She had arrived safely in New York a few days before and had satisfactorily located a rare eighteenth-century armoire for a client in London. It was a task she'd enjoyed immensely. The same, however, could not be said for untangling the Gordian knot that was Angus's estate; she was supposed to be meeting with some very unpleasant lawyers that day.

In this particular email, Maggie was also alerting Ducky that she would be taking the train down from New York the following afternoon, and would be arriving at Union Station just after four o'clock.

Ducky had promised to meet her at the station and drive her to the little inn in Georgetown – conveniently located a few short blocks away from his townhouse – where she would be staying.

Oh, he had freely offered her his guest room, and make no mistake. But they'd both eventually agreed that suddenly staying under the same roof after such a prolonged time apart would be a bit awkward.

Truth be told, what Ducky had really wanted was to go up to New York and spend a few days with Maggie there, but the sight of his schedule and his caseload for the next several weeks had him wringing his hands in dismay.

Ducky typed out a quick reply to Maggie's email. "I am glad to hear that your quest for the lost armoire was a success, my dear, and I wish you luck dealing with the wretched legal parasites on Fifth Avenue. I shall be at the station at four o'clock tomorrow, as requested."

Sending the email, he put on his white lab coat, picked up his tea and headed for the elevator.

 **xNCISx**

"Morning, Ducky!" Abby came running over and gave Ducky a "mwah" air kiss on both cheeks.

"Good morning, Abby. So what is plaguing our fearless leader today that he demands to see all of us on the bullpen floor?"

"Oh my gosh. Vance is totally breathing down Gibbs's neck – not literally, I think – because there hasn't been any movement in the Taylor case," Abby said as they went over to the Major Case Response Team desks.

"Ah, yes, the amazing vanishing naval accountant," Ducky said as they found a few spare chairs and sat down. From the other side of the bullpen, more agents approached: Special Agent Keisha Randall and her team.

Harold Taylor was both a naval lieutenant commander and a forensic accountant. He had been leading an investigation into the apparent disappearance of two million dollars in Navy funds three years before. And then he'd suddenly disappeared himself.

"All right, everyone, sit down, yes, you too, Gibbs," Vance said in his best "director" voice as he came down the stairs. "Agent Randall, is all your team here?"

Randall ran her hand through her hair distractedly and smoothed out a few wrinkles in her burgundy silk suit jacket. "Sanderson's running a few minutes late. Said he had some errands that needed running this morning."

"Let's hope it's just a few minutes, 'cause this is your team's case," Vance said. "Gibbs?"

"Just Bishop is missing."

Bishop herself came running in right at that moment. The look of agony on her face clearly said "traffic-induced headache." "Sorry I'm late, they're still doing construction on K Street," she grumbled as she plunked down at her desk.

"Don't worry, we're just getting to the good part," Tony said wryly.

"Man, Sanderson, how long does it take to pick up your dry cleaning?" another agent asked as Agent Liam Sanderson came hurrying through the door with a case file under his arm.

"It wasn't dry cleaning, it was a meeting at the bank about my mortgage, okay?" Sanderson said as he joined his team.

One by one, Vance asked everyone what they knew about the case. Sanderson? Computer analysis had turned up nothing. Randall? Her team had interviewed Taylor's family and co-workers a hundred times over. McGee? No activity on any of Taylor's bank accounts or credit cards. Ducky? No missing persons or John Does fitting his description had turned up in hospitals or morgues.

Vance leaned on the railing. "SECNAV's leaning on me for some kind of closure in this case. Naval officers who are also forensic accountants don't just disappear."

"Vance, is there any part of this meeting that you could have just emailed?" Gibbs asked sourly.

Vance threw Gibbs an equally sour look and was about to reply when Bishop's phone suddenly rang.

She picked it up. "Special Agent Bishop." She frowned. "One moment, please." She covered the phone. "Gibbs, it's for you. It's a police lieutenant out in Vienna."

Gibbs took the phone. "Yeah, Gibbs." He listened in silence for several moments. "Thanks, we're on our way." He dropped the phone. "Grab your gear!"

"Where to, boss?" Tony asked as the meeting scattered and the Major Case team started grabbing their gear.

"Vienna. Construction crews just dug up a skeleton."

A series of murmurs swept through the room. McGee frowned. "So why are they calling us in? Shouldn't that be local police or FBI?"

Gibbs gave everyone a meaningful look. "Because this skeleton had dog tags and Navy medals on it."

 **xNCISx**

More to come soon. Stay tuned!


	4. Tales From the Vienna Construction Site

**Chapter Four: Tales From the Vienna Construction Site**

"It's my turn to choose the traveling music today, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said, climbing into the driver's seat of the medical examiner's van.

"Sure, Dr. Mallard, rock out," Palmer concurred as he buckled himself into the passenger seat, yawning.

"Well, I was thinking classical rather than rock…Mr. Palmer, are you all right? You look exhausted."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Mallard," Palmer said, rubbing his eyes. "Breena and I haven't gotten much sleep lately – Victoria just started teething."

"Oh, the poor child – and poor you. I guess that means that playing 'Brahms' Lullaby' is out of the question," Ducky said as he fiddled the controls on the van's music system. "Let's see…ah! This will be perfect, considering where we're heading." He dialed up Strauss's "Tales From the Vienna Woods."

The lilting, swooping strings and brass filled the van as it brought up the rear of the three-vehicle convoy now chugging its way out of the Navy Yard and into the D.C. traffic.

Bishop, Tony and McGee were riding ahead of them in the NCIS truck.

"Tony, for crying out loud, slow down, you'll get us all – look out!" McGee yelled.

Tony slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid hitting a bright red convertible, and leaned on the horn. The convertible driver flipped a certain hand gesture and yelled something that had two syllables.

"Same to you, pal!" Tony shouted. "The injustice of it all – that a lousy driver gets to drive such an exquisite car."

"You want lousy driving, look in the mirror," McGee muttered.

"Guys, shut up, I'm talking to Abby," Bishop said, cupping her hand over her phone. "Yes, Abby, start doing a check of missing persons, civilian and Navy AWOL, in the northern Virginia area over the last five or so…yes, I know, we don't know if it's a Jane or a John Doe!"

The convoy, with Gibbs in the dark blue sedan at the head, crossed the river into Virginia and picked up I-66 heading west.

About half an hour later, the convoy left the interstate at the Oakton exit and made the drive through downtown Vienna. Soon after, a squadron of police cars and emergency vehicles, light bars flashing, and a mass of construction equipment came into view, clustered around a muddy, ripped-up patch of land on the periphery of town. A group of construction workers in hard hats, jeans and work boots stood around as Vienna police officers and Fairfax County sheriff's deputies swarmed this way and that, setting up yellow crime scene tape and waving onlookers away.

Gibbs pulled to a stop at the edge of the construction area. He waved to the uniformed police officer jogging toward him as the other two NCIS vehicles pulled in.

"Lt. Elizabeth Velasquez, Vienna PD," the officer introduced herself. "Thanks for coming, Agent Gibbs."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Gibbs said dryly. "So what've we got?"

"The area's being cleared for a little office building. The second foreman called us around 9:15, saying that the backhoe had brought up a body." Velasquez shook her head grimly. "I know you guys see a lot of weird stuff in NCIS, but we don't see this kind of thing very often. People move out here to get away from weird stuff, for heaven's sake."

"DiNozzo, Bishop, witness statements. McGee, photos," Gibbs called as the three field agents started unloading the truck. Ducky and Palmer emerged from the van, each lugging their ME cases.

With Gibbs and the team following close behind, Velasquez ducked under the police tape, tiptoeing around mud puddles, and led the way over to a parked backhoe in the center of the site.

"There," she said, pointing.

A long bundle of ragged, dirty plastic sheeting lay next to a pile of recently-excavated dirt. Part of the plastic had been cut away, and it was clear that there were human bones and some shreds of clothing inside.

"April is the cruelest month, but I believe that March can be dismal in its own way," Ducky said as he approached the skeleton. "The corpse you planted on your patch of Vienna soil, has it begun to sprout? Oh, keep back the backhoe that's friend to building men, else with its claws it'll dig it up again." He chuckled. "A few apologies to Mr. T.S. Eliot."

"How long do you think he's been in the ground?" Palmer asked.

"A year at least, maybe two or three. Long enough for complete decomposition," Ducky said as he opened his ME case. "Soil samples would tell us more, but seeing as the ground has been so heavily disturbed," he said with a glance at the backhoe, "we'll have to rely on other evidence."

McGee loaded a fresh memory card into his camera and began snapping photos as Ducky and Palmer set to work.

"Geez, looks like someone took a sledgehammer to this guy's head," McGee said.

"So it would seem, Timothy. But I don't think blunt force trauma was the cause of death." Ducky reached in with a pair of forceps and pulled out a .33 caliber slug from among the skull fragments.

"Execution-style, you think?" Palmer asked.

"It's hard to tell. We won't know until we get him back on the table and try to piece him back together," Ducky said. "As it is, I'd estimate that our deceased is a John Doe, somewhere between 40 and 60 years of age."

"But it doesn't make sense. Why shoot him and then smash his head to pieces?" Palmer frowned.

"I know, Mr. Palmer. Already there is a great deal about this case that troubles me," Ducky shook his head.

As Ducky and Palmer worked on their examination of the dead, Tony and Bishop were working on their examination of the living, starting with Dan Connors, the site foreman.

"You're ex-Navy?" Tony asked.

"Yep, I was a petty officer on the _Granville_ ," Connors said. "I took one look at those medals and knew there was a Navy guy in that plastic."

"Walk us through what happened," Bishop prompted.

"Yeah, we were bringing in the backhoe to start the groundbreaking. We'd only just started when the hoe dug…" Connors grimaced slightly as he glanced in Ducky and Palmer's direction. "Dug him up."

"Go on," Tony urged as Connors took off his hard hat and rubbed his forehead.

"I told Bobby…" Connors pointed to a young, shell-shocked looking worker with a gingery-red goatee and freckles sitting off to one side. "…to cut it open and see what was inside."

"Dumping a body this close to a town, when a few more miles would have put you out in the woods," Gibbs mused, frowning. "Who does the land belong to?" he asked Velasquez.

"The land owner is some development company out of Falls Church. Bought the parcel last year," Velasquez said.

"We're going to need their contact info," Bishop said.

"Has anyone seen anything weird going on around the site?" Tony asked.

Connors shook his head. Velasquez shrugged. "Nothing that was ever reported to us, or to the county guys. And I've got a long memory. Besides, the land's practically outside of town and it's not fenced in, so probably anyone could have come and gone as they pleased."

Meanwhile, Ducky had dropped the .33 slug into a plastic evidence tube to be handed off to Abby for ballistics analysis. He was now in the process of removing the medals and devices and tagging them, as Palmer took some samples of the clothing shreds still on the bones.

Palmer looked at the mildewed medals as Ducky laid them out. "If he's a Navy guy, he's high up on the food chain."

"Indeed. The devices indicate a senior officer, someone who has at least earned the rank of lieutenant commander," Ducky said. A frown crossed his face, and quickly departed as he reached in and pulled out the dog tags from around the skeleton's neck. The tags were coated with rust and mildew.

He rubbed his thumb over them to remove the grime. Not all of it came off, but enough to reveal the tags' name and rank.

"Good God," Ducky said. He turned to look over his shoulder. "Jethro!"

Gibbs held up a "just a sec" finger to Velasquez and came running back over. "What've you got, Duck?"

"Jethro, you are going to want to see the name on these tags. And judging from this morning's conversation, so will Vance."

The rest of the team came over and huddled in as Ducky held up the tags.

Nobody said a word.

The tags belonged to Lt. Cmdr. Harold S. Taylor, USN.

 **xNCISx**

Has our missing naval accountant turned up? If so, who put him there, and why?

Bit of literary trivia - that's a bit of T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" that Ducky is referencing there.

Stay tuned!


	5. All Aboard

Meanwhile, as the team deals with the investigative bombshell that is the skeleton's dog tags, we rejoin Maggie as she starts the next leg of her trip.

 **Chapter Five: All Aboard**

 _Penn Station, New York City, March 4_

The cab made its way through the Seventh Avenue traffic and pulled up in front of Penn Station just before one o'clock.

Maggie exited the cab, juggling her purse and computer bag as the driver helped her unload her suitcase from the cab's trunk. She thanked him, paid the fare and rode the escalator down into the station.

Reaching the Amtrak waiting area, she found the Quik-Trak machines, rummaged around in her purse and dug out the confirmation email. A few beeps later, she had her tickets in hand as she went into the waiting area to have a seat.

Maggie had only been in the United States a few days, but they had been a very full few days.

First was the easy part, meeting with an antiques dealer on Madison Avenue about the armoire. The aforementioned piece of furniture was now on a cargo flight to London out of JFK.

Then there was the hard part, dealing with the lingering headaches of Angus's estate.

The small regiments of lawyers and accountants that had worked for Angus and his father before him, both in London and New York, were proving to be regular sources of indigestion.

Oh, well, she'd found time for a visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and a nice long walk in Central Park. And in a few hours' time, she'd be meeting up with Donnie. He mentioned that the team had suddenly started working a very bizarre case, and that he'd tell her all about it once she arrived.

Maggie took out her mobile – it was a model that worked overseas – sent a quick text to Donnie and looked around the waiting area, quietly studying some of her fellow passengers.

There was a grandmotherly sort of woman wearing a sweater with cats on it, carrying a shopping bag bulging with toys. _Probably on her way to visit the grandchildren_ , Maggie thought. There were the usual business travelers, a few university-age students with duffel bags, and a couple of military personnel in fatigues.

And then there was the fiftyish man in the tailored gray suit sitting directly across from her: grim, square-jawed and unsmiling, with a close-cropped haircut and what looked like a small scar on his forehead.

His eyes swept around the waiting area in the usual studied boredom of the world-weary traveler, but Maggie could sense something else, the way he kept tapping the floor with the end of his walking stick. And it was an expensive-looking stick too, made from what she guessed was Irish blackthorn, with a bulbous silver top.

"All aboard at Gate Seven West for train number 2161, Amtrak Acela Express with service to Washington, D.C., making intermediate stops," came the announcement over the PA system.

Maggie got to her feet, grabbed her luggage and joined the passengers riding down the escalator to the platform.

"Do you need help getting down to the platform, Mr. Merriman?" she heard a red cap ask behind her.

"No!" The man with the walking stick blurted out. "I mean…no. Thank you."

 _He's certainly nervy_ , Maggie frowned.

On the train, she stowed her suitcase in the luggage rack at the back of the car and went in search of a seat. It was a packed train, but she was able to find a window seat.

The man with the walking stick – Merriman – boarded soon after and looked around for an empty seat. And to Maggie's mild dismay, he took the one next to her.

The train lurched out of the station and rolled its way toward the Hudson River tunnel.

"All tickets out for inspection," the conductor called as she made her way down the aisle. Merriman handed over his ticket first.

"ID please, Mr. Merriman?" the conductor prompted.

Merriman took out a driver's license and handed it over. He was tense – Maggie could sense it. But the conductor nodded and handed both license and ticket back after scanning the ticket. "Enjoy your trip."

Maggie handed over her own ticket and her passport. Once she had both items back, she took out her laptop, logged into the train's wireless network and brought up the BBC's website for a quick scan of the day's headlines. Then it was over to the D.C.-area news site that Donnie had recommended.

"Skeleton found at northern Virginia construction site; NCIS investigating," one of the lead stories said.

Maggie clicked on it. NCIS had been called to the site after the discovery of what appeared to be a corpse wearing Navy insignia.

The story included a photo of a gray-haired man in a black NCIS jacket – and he was clearly not pleased to see the news photographers. Undoubtedly the formidable Jethro. And Maggie could see Donnie and his assistant in their navy blue coveralls in the background.

"You've got your plate full, Donnie," Maggie said softly.

She suddenly realized that Merriman was surreptitiously looking at her screen out of the corner of his eye.

"I do apologize," Merriman said in a low voice as she turned to face him. "I'm originally from the D.C. area." He turned and faced straight ahead, not saying another word.

Maggie finished reading the article, powered off the computer and watched the New Jersey landscape go by.

 **xNCISx**

Ducky adjusted the table-mounted magnifying glass and peered at one of the skeleton's medals, frowning deeply. Then he looked back at the personal effects list on the table.

A full complement of naval medals and devices, but no wallet or ID cards? Dog tags with name and rank, but a face smashed beyond recognition?

He'd been puzzling over the skeleton for a day, and a lot of things were setting off alarm bells in his head.

"You've presented me with quite an enigma, good sir," he said to the partially-reconstructed skull now sitting on the exam table. The rest of the skeleton was tucked away in the cooler.

"Hi, Dr. Mallard," Sanderson said as he walked in. Blond, still boyish in his late thirties and (according to Tony) annoyingly cheerful, Liam Sanderson had been with NCIS for six years and Team Randall for four. His khakis, oxford cloth shirt and striped tie screamed "prep school" while his muscular six-foot-tall build screamed "rugby player."

"Ah, Agent Sanderson, what brings you down here?" Ducky asked.

"Wanted to see the John Doe for myself." Sanderson gave the skull an appraising look. "Wow. He's definitely dead." He looked at Ducky. "Do you need anything taken upstairs, by the way? Any evidence samples or paperwork?"

"That's very kind of you to offer, but I've already sent some DNA samples upstairs to Abby. But I'll certainly ask if I need anything else."

"Sure, no problem," Sanderson said cheerfully as he walked out.

Ducky returned his attention to the skull and medals, and shook his head.

"It doesn't make any sense," he said. "It doesn't make any sense!"

"That's our job in a nutshell, Duck," Gibbs remarked as he came strolling in. "What've you got?"

"A pile of bones and a lot of unanswered questions," Ducky remarked.

"Can we say it's Taylor?"

"We'll have to wait on DNA – I pulled one of the skull's remaining teeth, but Abby's had to send it out to an independent lab. Additionally, I want to do a reconstruction of the skull for facial analysis, and that will take some time," Ducky said as he got up and walked around the suite, hunting for this paperwork or that tool.

 _No anecdotes today – that's a first_ , Gibbs thought. "Something's on your mind, Duck. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing's the matter, Jethro – besides this case, of course." He paused. "I do have to be at Union Station later this afternoon, however. I'm meeting someone very important."

"Old medical examiner pal of yours?"

"No, this friend and I go back quite a ways indeed, before I became a medical examiner. She's visiting from England, and I invited her down for a bit of catching up."

 _A lady friend from England, someone Ducky's known for years._ Something clicked in Gibbs's mind.

"This isn't your old girlfriend, is it?" Gibbs asked. "Maggie Clarke?"

"Yes, 'tis she." There was a definite twinkle in Ducky's eyes, and Gibbs was fairly certain that Ducky was blushing a little bit as well.

Yes, Ducky had filled Gibbs in on the entire painful denouement of the Donnie-Maggie-Angus triangle. _If I were Ducky, I'd have knocked Clarke's teeth out of his head, too,_ Gibbs thought.

"So what is it with you two? Are you friends, or are you, uh…" Gibbs gave Ducky a meaningful look. "You know."

"Well, to borrow a phrase from the younger members of the team, our relationship status is somewhere between 'just friends' and 'it's complicated.'"

"Well, we'll have to meet her. Feel free to invite her over for a tour – only watch out, because the entire team goes into mother hen mode every time you've got a new girlfriend," Gibbs said over his shoulder as he left the autopsy suite.

Ducky chuckled and resumed working on the rebuild of the skull.

 **xNCISx**

Reviews welcome!


	6. Flashback Fever

**Chapter Six: Flashback Fever**

 _Union Station, Washington, D.C., later that afternoon_

Ducky closed his umbrella and shook the rainwater off it as he stepped into the Grand Rotunda at Union Station.

It was just before the rush hour really got going, and the station was starting to fill up with people – interns in polo shirts and khakis, office workers in suits and military personnel in full uniform – heading this way and that: the Amtrak concourse, the Virginia Railway Express platforms, or the escalator leading down to the Metro.

He made his way through the station, down the shops-and-eateries concourse with its raspberry-colored tile floor, until he arrived at the Amtrak waiting area.

A glance at the arrivals board told him that Maggie's train was about fifteen minutes behind. So he sat down and opened the forensic psychology journal he'd brought along. But Ducky's mind was on things other than the words on the page.

He and Maggie were about to see each other again in person for the first time in six months.

Their current arrangement wasn't an ideal one: only seeing each other once in a blue moon, travel schedules permitting, and having all their other contact in writing and phone calls.

It wasn't enough. Not for him, and certainly it couldn't be enough for her.

Once upon a time, he'd begged her to come with him on his trip, the two Eurail passes burning a hole in his pocket. If only he could ask her again...this time to start a new life with him.

But no, it couldn't be, he told himself sternly. Maggie had a life in London, friends and family (minus Angus), and an antiques appraisal practice that was doing quite well, from the sounds of things. It would not be fair to ask her to uproot herself from all that and move to a whole new country – and for what?

The life of an NCIS medical examiner was not an easy one – well, the pay was all right, but the hours, and the emotionally draining nature of the work, were another matter. And Ducky's life had been in danger more than once. He couldn't imagine subjecting Maggie to all that.

To make matters worse, this infernal case was going to cut into whatever little time they had to spend together.

And yet…

Ducky's head was all a whirl of confused thoughts.

Maybe, deep down inside he was still that same idealistic boy who'd unexpectedly found himself falling for the girl next door.

 _"Donnie, old son, take a word or two of advice from your old Uncle Angus,"_ Angus had said during one of their many lads' nights out at the pub, years and years ago. _"You're too old-fashioned when it comes to girls."_

 _"I am not old-fashioned!"_ Ducky had protested.

 _"Yes you are! You're the kind of man who'd stand under a girl's window, strumming a lute and hoping she'll throw you something. A rose, a glove – hell, even a crumpled-up crisp packet."_ Angus drained his pint glass and plunked it down on the table. _"I, on the other hand, prefer a much more direct method when it comes to the fair sex."_

 _"I know that you do. I also know that your direct method got you a direct knee to the groin when you asked Beryl Mansfield if she fancied a good shag."_ Ducky gave his friend a knowing look. _"How many weeks was it before your voice returned to its normal pitch? Two?"_

 _"Three, actually."_

Ducky chuckled a little bit at the memory.

The PA system suddenly cut into his thoughts. "Now arriving at Gate Nine, Amtrak Acela Express 2161 from Boston."

 _She has arrived._

Ducky quickly stood up and put his journal away – and much to his bemusement, found himself straightening his bow tie in the reflection from the monitors.

 **xNCISx**

The train slowly pulled into the platform and came to a gentle stop.

Maggie let out a sigh of relief as Merriman quickly stood up and began pushing his way off the train.

She closed the book she was reading, slipped it into her computer bag's outer pocket and went to collect her suitcase before stepping down onto the concrete platform.

A cold rainy breeze blew in from the north. Maggie shivered and did up the top button on her coat before joining the throng of passengers slowly heading up the stairs and into the station.

She emerged in the waiting area, a hive of bustle and activity with passengers running this way and that on their way to a connecting train or to the taxi queues.

 _Where is he…_

There he was, standing by the arrivals monitors.

In his suit, bow tie, glasses and trench coat, he looked like a university professor, the kind that could put a room full of students to sleep. But Maggie could still see, very clearly, vestiges of the handsome blond boy who had turned a thousand girls' heads – including hers – in London all those years ago.

 _The boy who'd admitted during that fateful party at the pub that he'd loved her. But it ended too soon with a wordless goodbye at St. Pancras Station…oh, why was she thinking about that now?_

Ducky was also scanning the crowd of passengers making their way through the doors up from the platform.

And then he saw her, coming through the doorway with her purse, a burgundy leather rolling suitcase and a matching computer bag.

She was wearing a turquoise wool coat over a subdued gray turtleneck and slacks, and she had her reddish-brown hair pinned back in a chignon at the base of her neck.

Ducky also started having a flashback. _A girl in a green coat, standing in the station doorway, backlit by the sunlight. The look in her eyes said "Farewell" and "Please don't go" at the same time._

Ducky quickly dispatched those memories and began waving. "Maggie! Over here!"

"Donnie!"

Maggie sidestepped a few passengers with too much luggage and broke into a brisk walk as Ducky came forward to meet her. The two exchanged a quick hug and a few pecks on each other's cheeks; he caught the scent of her violet perfume while she caught the scent of his faintly spicy cologne.

"Maggie, my darling, you look wonderful. I trust you had a pleasant trip?"

"Oh, stop it, I look positively rumpled," Maggie retorted. "The trip was just fine – and if I may say so, you look just ducky," she added slyly.

"Please, let me take something," Ducky said, looking at Maggie's luggage.

"Oh, no, I couldn't, I'm managing just...well, all right." Maggie unshouldered her computer bag and handed it to Ducky.

"If you'll follow me, my car is just a few blocks away," he said, slipping the bag strap over his shoulder.

"Are you still driving that Morgan?" Maggie asked. "And how in heaven's name did you manage to find a place to park?" Maggie asked.

"First question: would I drive anything else? Second question: the automotive gods were feeling unusually generous today."

And the conversation continued in this vein – and on a few other subjects – as Maggie and Ducky headed for the main entrance.

 **xNCISx**

Merriman was watching them as they left.

His mood, not particularly cheerful when he'd gotten on the train in New York, had turned a few more shades irritable. He'd seen Dr. Mallard waiting as he got off the train, and he'd quickly given the NCIS chief medical examiner a wide berth. A near miss – it would have been one more thing on a too-long list of unwanted difficulties.

So he'd ducked behind a pillar to see who exactly Mallard was waiting for. Sure enough, the British woman that Merriman had sat next to on the train – Clarke, her name was – emerged from the crowd.

She could sense that something was up with him, he knew it. But the fact that she knew Mallard, and quite well, from the looks of things…

Merriman went into a bar just off the main concourse, ordered a scotch neat, took out his phone and dialed.

"Yes?" the young male voice on the other end answered.

"It's me. I've arrived. Get word to the others," Merriman said with a glance at Mallard and Ms. Clarke as they disappeared in the crowd. "We have a problem."

 **xNCISx**

It may be a few days before the next chapter is ready to go. But it'll be along as soon as possible!


	7. Of Bullpens and Bistros

Next chapter, hot off the presses! This one was actually really hard to write - that's why it took a while to post.

 **Chapter Seven: Of Bullpens and Bistros**

 _NCIS Headquarters, that evening_

Taylor's official file photo, in his navy dress blues, glowered down from the bullpen flatscreen.

"When we last left Harold Smithfield Taylor," Tony intoned in a soap opera narrator voice as he dramatically waved the flatscreen "clicker" around, "our checkbook-balancing lieutenant commander was sniffing out an awfully large amount of missing Navy moolah. Has Harry been taking a dirt nap in suburban Virginia these past few years? Find out on our next episode of All My John Does."

"Cut the crap, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he walked back into the bullpen. "Pull up everything we've got on Taylor."

"Sure, boss." A screenshot of Taylor's file came up on the screen. "Taylor was fifty-three at the time he disappeared. Divorced several times, no kids. Fellow officers said he was, quote-unquote, a miserable bastard who spent all of his free time doing woodworking projects." Tony grinned. "Sound familiar, Gibbs?"

"Haven't a clue what you're talking about," Gibbs retorted. "Bishop, what's the latest on the site owners?"

"I'm waiting for them to send over the paperwork about the site. They're not happy with us because our investigation is slowing down the groundbreaking." Bishop frowned. "What I want to know is, Taylor was a lieutenant commander. He could have palmed the hands-on work in the financial audits off on a junior officer."

"Good point," McGee said, looking over a case file. "I'm looking at this old interview from Taylor's second-in-command. He said that Taylor was more than happy to give his staff extra work when it came to most things, but for the embezzlement, he was dead-set on doing the forensic audit himself."

"Speaking of which," Gibbs said, "there's something about the money that's not sitting right. Three years ago, Randall's team tracked the missing money to a bank in Springfield. But nobody knows where it went after that."

McGee shook his head. "But shouldn't there be records of wire transfers, stuff like that?"

"No. There aren't. The bank staff seemed a little itchy about something, but NCIS couldn't prove anything." Gibbs looked at the clock. "Call it a night. First thing tomorrow we bring Taylor's staff back in for questioning and we track down his next-of-kin."

Bishop, McGee and Tony started gathering their coats and bags.

"Anything fun tonight, Tim?" Bishop asked.

"Yeah, Delilah and I have a date. Poetry reading at a bookstore in Georgetown."

"You disappoint me, McGoo," Tony said. "But speaking of dates, is there any truth to Ducky having a secret sweetie?"

"I wonder if it's his old friend Maggie," Bishop said as they headed for the elevators. "There were definitely sparks between them in London, and…"

Gibbs remained at his desk, finishing up paperwork.

"There you are, Gibbs," Randall said as she came down the middle of the squadroom. "Vance wants one last meeting on the Taylor case before everyone leaves for the day."

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know, I'm trying to get out of here in time for my kids' school play," Randall concurred as they headed upstairs. "Some days with a team under my command, I feel like I've got three extra kids. I don't know where Sanderson is half the time, Perez is still on probationary status and Breuer's always having some crisis at home."

Vance hung up the phone as Gibbs and Randall walked in. "SECNAV wants another briefing tomorrow," he said. "Can we say, beyond all reasonable doubt, that Taylor is our John Doe?"

"Abby's still got to run the DNA tests. And her whatever-it-is gizmo for doing that is out of commission, so she's got to send it to some lab in Maryland." Gibbs shrugged. "And Ducky wants to do a rebuild of the skull and have it scanned into the computer, and he says that's going to take a while."

"So our John Doe could be Jimmy Hoffa, for all we know," Vance said.

"We'll have to call his ex-wife…" Randall corrected herself. "Wives back in for a few new interviews. Fellow officers, too."

"There's another reason I called you guys in here." Vance looked grim as he fiddled with a pen on his desk. "I think we've got a rat."

"You mean a mole?" Randall frowned.

"No, I mean a rat. I think we've got an NCIS agent who's dirty. Corrupt. Someone who's been sabotaging the integrity of investigations."

Gibbs cursed. "Not another one."

Randall shook her head. "Vance, surely you're not suggesting…"

"I'm not implicating anyone from either of your teams. It's just chatter that I've been hearing from some of the other agents. But it's something that I want looked into." Vance gave a deep sigh. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to keep this on the QT for now."

 **xNCISx**

The little French bistro Chez Amélie was doing a rather healthy weeknight business in Georgetown at seven-thirty.

At their table near the window, Maggie was regaling Ducky with a story of a particularly troublesome client she'd had to deal with just prior to a Sotheby's auction.

"He was claiming that it was an authentic baroque piece, but in reality it was a clever job done with chipboard, varnish and an old table," Maggie said dramatically.

Ducky clasped his hand over his mouth in an exaggerated gesture of horror.

"I sent him away with his tail between his legs, and I think I got him banned from Sotheby's for the next three years at least."

"Bravo." Ducky lifted his wine glass in a salute. "What was it that gave him away?"

"Well, I've appraised enough furniture to tell the genuine from the fake. But it was his body language, too." Maggie took a sip of wine. "I guess I've learned to read people as well as antiques. Not quite the same as what you do, I suppose, but…"

"Oh, no – I talk about 'reading people' when I tell people about my forensic psychology work," Ducky said. "And sometimes my psychology degrees are in conflict with Leroy Jethro Gibbs's 'gut.'"

Their main courses arrived: mussels in white wine sauce for Ducky and cod with roasted vegetables for Maggie.

"I'm curious, Maggie. How did you find yourself going into the antiques trade?" Ducky asked as he picked up his knife and fork.

"It's something I've been working up to over the decades. When my auntie Jane died, years ago, I had to help get her house and things ready for sale. She had quite a few valuable old things sitting round the house." Maggie took a bite of fish. "Over the years, I'd have friends come to me asking for my opinion on this piece or that bit of artwork. And then, fifteen years ago, I just hung out my shingle, if you like."

"And Bryony's helping you?"

"Oh, yes, she's mostly my apprentice right now but I'm training her up to be my partner in crime. So I suppose she's my Mr. Palmer."

Ducky nodded his approval, and then a thought crossed his mind. "I probably shouldn't be asking this, Maggie, but how did Angus feel about it?"

Maggie paused, and Ducky mentally kicked himself.

"He was fine with it at first. I suppose he saw it just as a hobby. But as my work got more serious, and I began taking on regular clients, we…well, it certainly wasn't the only thing we argued over." Maggie sighed. "I won't lie. The antiques work gave me an excuse not to be as involved with the hotel business as I'd once been. Oh, I loved the employees – well, not Godfrey – but I couldn't stand all the back-stabbing among the management. And besides…" she paused again. "I wanted to do something with my life that didn't involve being Mrs. Angus Clarke."

Ducky shook his head sadly. "Maggie, I'm so sorry for making you dredge all that up."

"Oh, don't be. It's water under the bridge now. Now I've done enough talking for the moment, Donnie Mallard, so you tell me about this puzzling case."

"But of course. It began when…" Ducky frowned. "Although I'm not sure how much of this is suitable for discussion at the table."

"Don't worry about being delicate with the details," Maggie said.

And so, Ducky gave Maggie a complete synopsis of the case thus far, from Taylor's disappearance to the evidence gathering.

"Do you think it really is your missing Navy man?" Maggie asked.

"I'm hesitant to say either yes or no at this point, though the powers that be want definite answers."

"Whoever it is…do you think someone has to be missing them?" Maggie asked quietly. "Someone wondering why they haven't come home?"

"One would like to think so," Ducky agreed.

Gradually, though, the conversation steered back to cheerier topics: Palmer becoming a father, Bryony's engagement to her boyfriend Kevin, McGee's latest book, and so forth.

Between the long chat, a pot of Earl Grey and a shared tarte Tatin with cream for dessert, it was ten o'clock before Ducky and Maggie remotely considered walking back to Maggie's lodgings.

A light rain started to fall as they arrived at the front door of The Eyrie, the Georgian-style townhouse that had been converted into a B&B.

"See you in the morning?"

"Of course."

"Bonne nuit, ma chère Marguerite."

Maggie giggled and blew a kiss over her shoulder as she headed inside, and Ducky dramatically clasped both hands over his heart before walking down the street.

It hit Maggie as she was taking off her earrings, and Ducky as he was undoing his bow tie back at his house, that they still hadn't had the dreaded chat about relationship status.

 _Stalling again,_ each one scolded themselves.

 **xNCISx**

Reviews, etc.!


	8. A Minute at the Hourglass

Moving along! For this chapter, we're going to follow Maggie for a little bit - and pick up a few clues...

 **Chapter Eight: A Minute at the Hourglass**

 _Hourglass Antiques, Washington, D.C., March 6_

Maggie's phone chirped as she made her way along Dupont Circle. She took the phone out and opened it without checking the caller ID. "Donnie, is that you?"

"No, Auntie Mags, it's me," Bryony Sullivan said on the other end.

"Oh, hello, Bryony. How is everything? Did you have that appraisal with the man about the guitar?"

"The bastard!" Bryony spat. "He said he had an authentic 1956 Fender Strat that once belonged to Eric Clapton. Turned out it was a cheap knockoff that's never been anywhere near Clapton's fingers, so I told him to piss off."

Maggie shook her head. "We've been seeing a lot of that lately. I'll tell you what, Bryony – I need to ring off, but I'll call back later."

"Sure, Auntie Mags. And say hi to Uncle Donnie for me."

"Uncle?" Maggie said in amused surprise. "Just a moment, young lady, he's not your uncle just yet."

"Well he should be – honestly, what are you two waiting for?" There was a click as Bryony hung up.

 _What indeed,_ Maggie thought as she stepped through the front door of Hourglass Antiques.

This was no petite storefront, but a very nicely laid-out shop that took up two floors of the converted brownstone. The wares on the floor included a fine rococo writing desk that would have induced envy in a lot of the auction regulars at Christie's, while one wall held a collection of oil paintings that would not have been out of place in the Tate Gallery.

Maggie noted the different awards on the wall behind the front desk, and the framed magazine covers featuring the shop. _You've done well for yourself, Julia_ , she thought.

An old school friend of Maggie's, Julia Bradley had entered the diplomatic service after leaving school, and she'd been assigned to the British Embassy in Washington as a secretary. It was there that she'd met her future husband, also an embassy staffer. _"Paul and I had made so many friends here, we decided to stay on after we retired – I guess life along the Potomac suits us,"_ Julia had said earlier.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" a young shop assistant asked.

"Yes, I'm here to meet with Julia Bradley. She's expecting me."

"Oh, right, you must be Ms. Clarke. She's upstairs in the office with Mr. Martin, but if you'll just have a seat, she'll…"

He was cut off by the sound of shouting coming from upstairs.

"That campaign desk was supposed to be part of a shipment out to California!"

"If you weren't so lax about bookkeeping and stock-taking, Julia…"

"Don't you talk to me about laxity, Philip Martin! It's a miracle we've gotten anything done at this shop since…"

The assistant looked at Maggie and shook his head apologetically. "Sorry about that."

A door slammed upstairs and a pair of high heels click-clacked their way toward the stairs, accompanied by a woman's voice cursing rather colorfully in perfect "BBC newsreader's accent" English.

Julia Bradley descended the stairs, coming to a stop on the bottom landing. The stormy expression on her face immediately brightened when she spotted Maggie.

Julia was, to put it charitably, a little broad in the beam, with dark hair streaked with gray. Today she was wearing an expensive-looking cardigan in heather-colored cashmere and a dark green wool skirt.

"Margaret Jane Townsend Clarke. So you've finally decided to darken the door of my humble little shop," she said.

"You've got a very odd definition of humble, Julia," Maggie remarked.

"Less of your sauce, madam," Julia retorted as she crossed the floor and caught Maggie in a rib-cracking hug. "It's been an eternity!"

"We only saw each other three years ago. The trip to Bermuda, remember?"

"Yes, our girls' only scuba diving trip." Julia scowled dramatically. "You were swimming and diving like a mermaid while I wallowed about like an uncoordinated seal - it's a miracle I don't hate you. But come, sit down here," she said as she led the way back toward a pair of armchairs at the rear of the shop. "And I do apologize that you had to hear my little disagreement with my co-owner."

"Disagreement? Battle royal is more like it," Maggie said, sitting down.

"God, yes. There was an antique lap desk, a fine bit of cherry wood, that appears to have disappeared from our stock, and Mr. Martin's accusing me of not keeping accurate records. One of these days I really will buy out his half of the shop. But let's not talk about that now. How are you enjoying the city?"

"I rather like it so far. I've been to one or two of the museums down along the Mall, some of the monuments. And Donnie's being a good host."

"Ah, yes, the excellent Dr. Mallard. Do you know – after the formidable Victoria went off to bliss eternal and he moved into the city, he sold some of her antiques here. We got a good sum for them, but we can't seem to offload that wretched commode," Julia said, pointing her thumb at the aforementioned piece of furniture. "But back to the subject of darling Donnie," she said. "Are you two officially an item?"

Maggie gave a bemused smile. "Do you know you're the second person to ask me that in the last half hour? My niece is already calling him Uncle Donnie."

"Well, Bryony's always been a bright one," Julia said. "And you still haven't answered my question."

Maggie fixed her gaze on a pair of painted china plates on the wall. "It's difficult."

"What is?"

"Donnie lives here, and I live over there. We've been leading two separate lives for the past few decades."

Julia leaned back in her chair as she crossed her arms. "Well, Maggie, I'm no psychologist, but from the sounds of your emails, it sounds like there's two things getting in the way. One is…"

She was cut off by the tinkling of the shop bell. A thirtyish woman with pixie-cut brown hair strode into the shop and spoke officiously to the shop assistant. "I'm here to speak with Phil Martin. Tell him Becca's here."

"Oh, you again, Miss Parker," Julia said coldly. "Well, if you're looking to argue with him, you'll find that he's in an arguing mood." She pointed up the stairs. The woman didn't climb up so much as march up, her high-heeled boots ringing out every step of the way.

"Bold as brass, the little madam. Probably a mistress," Julia huffed. "As I was saying, Maggie, it sounds like for one thing, you've both had bad times in the relationships department. God knows you and Angus were mismatched from the start, you've admitted it yourself. And two…" She spread her hands out. "Both of you are afraid of scaring the other off, so you don't want to get close."

There was a silence on the shop floor, punctuated only by the sounds of more arguing upstairs.

"Do you know, I think you've summed it up exactly," Maggie said.

"Oh, I know, some days I think I should have become an agony aunt instead of becoming a shopkeeper," Julia remarked. She frowned as something suddenly occurred to her. "Have you given any more thought to it?"

"Thought to what?"

"The other thing we've been talking about. About whether you'd like to relocate here."

Maggie sighed. "Oh, Julia, I don't know. On one hand, I'd really miss London…"

"And on the other hand?"

"I've been wondering if it would do me some good to pull up the stakes. Even in St. John's Wood there's too many reminders of my old life with Angus."

Julia pursed her lips. "Well, Washington's a lovely city, despite all the political parasites and the beastly humidity in the summer. Paul and I still have a lot of friends at the embassy, and I'd be glad to introduce you. And besides…"

They were interrupted by Maggie's phone chirping. This time, the caller ID said it was from Donnie.

"I should go. Donnie and I are meeting for lunch. Then it's a walk up in that park he told me about. Rock Creek."

"Perfect. While you two are lunching and perambulating, you tell him exactly how you feel. And don't stop until you've gotten him to do the same." Julia looked solemn. "You deserve some happiness for once in your life, Maggie Clarke, and so does he."

 **xNCISx**

"He was not easy to get along with. Easily angered. Paranoid." Lt. Cmdr. Vincent Palladino paused as he fiddled with one of the brass buttons on his navy dress blues. "I think he was bitter about not being made captain. He really wanted that eagle pin to wear on his uniform."

In the NCIS conference room, Gibbs and Randall were having a long talk with one of Taylor's subordinates. Palladino was walking them through the days before Taylor disappeared, just as he'd done in the same room three years before.

"We have a dedicated team of accountants that we'd usually turn to for something like this. But Taylor wouldn't hear of it. He said that he'd figure it out himself."

"Was that usual?" Randall asked.

"No, not at all. Taylor usually didn't like getting his hands dirty. But this was different. He insisted on making on the phone calls, doing all the scans and checking the account records…and then when he didn't show up for work one day, we called you guys in."

"Tell us again about out-of-work life. Friendships and stuff," Gibbs said.

"Not many friends. Maybe some golfing buddies. And some group interested in early American woodcraft. But that's it." Palladino fiddled with his button again. "Taylor stepped on a lot of toes on his way up the chain of command."

The door opened as an agent came to show Palladino out. He rose and started out the door, then turned to face the table again. "If you ever got on Taylor's bad side, he'd make you pay. Big time."

The door closed behind him. Gibbs and Randall looked at each other with an increasing sense of foreboding.

 **xNCISx**

Hmmm. Next chapter to come along soon, I promise!


	9. Rapids Bridge

Big scene here! Needless to say, this was a really hard one to write - this is a key scene with Maggie and Ducky, so I wanted to get it right.

 **Chapter Nine: Rapids Bridge**

 _NCIS Headquarters, a short time later_

To say that Abby was not in a good mood would be the understatement of the century.

"Where is it?" she demanded, scrolling through her email with mounting impatience.

Ducky had said that he'd emailed her the photos of the reconstructed skull from the Vienna construction site. But she'd checked every single one of her folders – inbox, junk mail and so forth – and the photos were not there.

On top of that, the DNA test results from the skull's tooth had not arrived back from the external lab, never mind that the scientist had said that he'd sent them over by courier the day before.

Abby reached for her phone and dialed the autopsy suite again. "You have reached Dr. Donald Mallard, chief medical examiner for NCIS. Kindly leave a message at the tone and…"

Abby gave a disgusted sigh as she disconnected the call.

McGee was out on lunch break, so he couldn't help her with the email issues. Palmer had, at Ducky's insistence, gone home for a nap, and he had taken the only other set of keys to the locker where the skull was. And the scientist who had done the DNA testing had just left on vacation.

Nothing was going right today. Nothing!

"What am I going to do?" Abby asked the empty lab in a voice full of pathos.

She grabbed her Caf-Pow – this was her fourth of the day – and took a long swig. Then she dialed Gibbs's extension.

"Gibbs."

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, do you know where Ducky is?" Abby asked.

"How much Caf-Pow have you had today, Abs?"

"Gibbs!"

"Okay, calm down. Ducky said he was stepping out for an extended lunch break. But he'll be back soon."

"I can't wait until then!" Abby wailed.

 **xNCISx**

"I can't begin to tell you how many cases we've been called to here – so it's a joy to be walking here without my medical examiner's case in my hand," Ducky said, taking a deep breath of the fresh early-spring air.

He and Maggie were walking along one of the trails crossing through Rock Creek Park, that bucolic swath of forests and creeks on the city's northwestern edge.

"Is there a place in all this city where you haven't found yourself tending to some corpse or other?" Maggie asked.

"If there are any such places, I could count them on one hand," Ducky chuckled.

They'd parked the Morgan at the nature center on the park's western edge. Maggie was wearing her walking shoes while Ducky had replaced his oxfords with his spare pair of "foul weather at the crime scene" Wellies.

The weather had decided to be nice that day – only slightly overcast, with a few hints of sunshine poking through. There were several other people out taking in the park as well: dog walkers, a few hikers and the usual packs of joggers, and every now and then a park ranger's vehicle rolled by on one of the access roads.

The path took Maggie and Ducky to Rapids Bridge, one of several footbridges in the park.

They stopped for a while, resting their elbows on the well-worn wooden railing as they gazed out over the scenery and watched the creek go by below. Their reflections looked back up at them from the creek.

 _Get it over with. Now,_ each one mentally told themselves.

"Donnie," Maggie began to say, right as Ducky said "Maggie."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, please, you first."

"Very well." Maggie squared her shoulders. "Donnie…do you remember that night back in London, right before you and Bishop left? That little talk we had down along the river?"

"Down to the last detail. It seems that there's something with us and bridges." Ducky looked out over the creek. "And I remember you asked, what's next for us."

"And that's what we need to talk about. What's next for us?"

There was only the sound of the creek burbling and birds chirping as this question hung in the air.

"I remember saying, if I could just stand by your side for a moment, and not say anything, that would be enough," Ducky said. He smiled sadly. "Except I'm not sure that would be enough anymore, if the last six months have told us anything."

"I suppose it's true, the more one gets, the more one wants," Maggie said. "As for me, I found myself wishing we could sit by the fire and tell each other about our day in the evenings. Like any other couple."

"Like any other couple," Ducky concurred. "And do you know, ever since we started corresponding again, I've saved every single letter or missive you've sent me?"

Maggie laughed. "And I thought I was the hopeless romantic. I've not quite started tying your letters up in ribbons and keeping them in a box under my bed. But I'm close."

"I suppose that what I am trying to say, in my own, rambling, roundabout manner…is that I love you, Maggie Clarke." The words came pouring out of Ducky, like a faucet being turned on. "I love you madly, truly, and I want you to be part of my life. Not just as friends, or…or pen-friends. I want us to have a real, proper, _affaire de coeur_." He paused. "But…"

"But what?" Maggie asked. "Tell me, Donnie, you know I hate pregnant pauses."

"It's…" Ducky stared back down into the creek and gripped the bridge railing as he tried to think of what to say next. "NCIS, as I'm sure you've gathered, is a place for people who tend to carry around a large amount of emotional baggage," Ducky said. "And I have enough emotional baggage to fill the cargo hold on the _Queen Mary_."

Maggie glanced down at Ducky's right hand, and the thickened scar on it. "You mean like that whole episode with Mr. Pain."

"Exactly. Some of the things I've had to go through in my life, some of the scars that are still healing…those are burdens that I can't make you bear."

"Donnie, have you forgotten already?" Maggie asked with mild exasperation. "Godfrey holding us both hostage with a knife, and you cutting him with the scalpel? I've gotten a taste of what it is you've had to go through. You have an unusual and sometimes dangerous profession, and I know this. Besides," she said firmly, "I have plenty of emotional baggage of my own."

"Yes, you're right. Please forgive me – I keep forgetting how you've always had nerves of steel."

"There's nothing to apologize for." Maggie put her hand on Ducky's, and gently rubbed her thumb back and forth over his scar. "I don't want a man who has a perfectly normal, boring past. I want you – scars and all," she said. "I wasn't joking when I said that I'd loved you first and best. And I still do."

It should be noted that while this entire conversation was going on, Maggie and Ducky were slowly inching closer and closer. And Maggie tilted her face slightly upwards as Ducky brought his face in to meet hers.

Their lips were almost touching…

And then the strains of "Scotland the Brave" blasted out of Ducky's coat pocket, completely shattering the moment.

Maggie quickly grabbed the bridge railing to steady herself as she caught her breath. Ducky rolled his eyes as he fished around in his pocket for his cell phone. "Dr. Mallard," he said without glancing at the caller ID.

"Ducky! Duckman! Duck, Duck, Duck!" Abby's voice said.

"Yes, Abigail, what is it?"

"Ducky, I need you back here now! Those skull photos never transmitted!"

"What?" Ducky frowned. "But I sent them to you this morning, first thing!"

"I know, I believe you! But it's like the email server ate them or something!"

"All right. Abby, calm down. I'm up at Rock Creek Park, but as soon as I get back, I'll download them again and…"

"Rock Creek Park? Ducky, is there something I'm interrupting?"

"Well…"

"Oooh! It's true, isn't it! You've got a girlfriend, don't you?"

"I'll be back at headquarters soon, I promise!" And Ducky ended the call just as Abby started chanting "Ducky's got a girlfriend, Ducky's got a girlfriend."

"Everything all right?" Maggie asked.

"Just when it was getting good." Ducky slipped the phone back into his pocket and gave Maggie an apologetic look. "Maggie, I'm so sorry to bring our outing to an early close, but I'm afraid I'm being summoned back to port. Our forensic analyst is sounding terribly anxious."

"Donnie…look, it's all right. You have to do what you have to do. We'll just come back another time," Maggie said.

A thought suddenly occurred to Ducky, and he smiled. "I do remember that I promised you a tour of the NCIS headquarters. And I intend to deliver on that promise."

 **xNCISx**

A romantic interlude so suddenly interrupted - oh, well. More to come - reviews, please!


	10. Taylor Made

Hold on to your hats, everyone - the forecast for this chapter calls for a Category 5 _**Plot Twist.**_

 **Chapter Ten: Taylor Made**

 _NCIS Headquarters_

The Morgan crawled its way through the downtown traffic as it made its way back to the Navy Yard.

Ducky turned into the long driveway and joined the line of cars waiting at the gate.

When Ducky and Maggie pulled up to the booth, one of the uniformed personnel working the gate got out of the booth and walked around to Ducky's side of the car. "Dr. Mallard, when are you ever going to get a normal car?" he joked as he checked Ducky's ID.

"And what would you define as a normal car, Corporal Blauvelt?" Ducky asked with mock indignation.

"One that's got the steering wheel on the left side! Don't they know how to build cars in England?"

"You watch your tone, young man. Besides, aren't you always complaining about being trapped in that booth all day?"

"You got me there, doc. Have a good day," Corporal Blauvelt said, waving for the other gate officer to raise the arm.

As they drove through, Maggie looked around at the buildings and the different personnel – some in military uniforms and some in civilian clothes – going this way and that, and she craned her neck to get a better look at the Navy ship anchored in the Potomac.

Ducky pulled around to the designated parking area for NCIS staff and pulled into his spot next to Gibbs's car. "Welcome to the Navy Yard. Also known as home sweet home for NCIS," he said, switching off the engine.

They got out of the car and started walking across the grounds to the main entrance, and a few people hailed Ducky as they went.

On their way up the front walk, they passed the memorial for the May 2012 bombing.

"Did you know any of them well?" Maggie asked, pointing to the bronze plaque with the victims' names.

"Some of them, yes, and some I knew only in passing. It was one of those moments in time that defied all reason, all logic," Ducky said somberly.

Inside the main lobby, Ducky got Maggie signed in at the front desk. The clerk handed her a laminated visitor's badge, which Maggie clipped to her coat as she followed Ducky into the elevator.

"We might as well start on the ground floor and work up." Ducky pressed the button for the autopsy suite.

"Is it true what you said, about Gibbs using the lifts as a conference room?" Maggie asked.

"Oh, yes, I wasn't joking about that." Ducky chuckled. "It's a miracle he hasn't gotten an angry phone call from the maintenance staff yet."

The elevator dinged as the doors whooshed open onto the autopsy corridor. "And here we are at the Mallard Inn. The departure lounge for Charon's ferry. Don't worry, we don't have any guests on the table at the moment."

The double doors to the autopsy suite hissed open as they approached.

"So this is where you work, Donnie," Maggie said quietly as she took in the cavernous white-walled space with its three stainless steel examining tables, the two rows of refrigerated lockers on the far wall, and the rolling table with the large-size computer monitors.

She suddenly started laughing.

"What is it?" Ducky asked as he logged back into his computer.

"I'm just remembering, what you said at your going-away party. Why you said you wanted to go into obstetrics instead of heart surgery."

"Oh, yes!" Ducky started laughing as well. "I did say that if I never saw another dead body again it would be too soon. And instead of tending to patients as they come into this world, I'm tending to them as they leave it."

He turned back to the computer, clicked through his email and the file folders and frowned. "That's odd. Where could those photos have gotten to?"

He opened the desk drawer, took out a small digital camera and clicked it on – and shook his head in dismay when the prompt said "Card empty."

"Oh, well, I guess I'll have to take another picture of Yorick." He started toward the locker, unlocked it and started to open it, and then paused. "Maggie, if you'd rather not see this…"

Maggie looked indecisive for a second – thinking of the moment she'd been called in to identify Angus's body – and then walked over. Ducky slowly pulled open the locker to reveal the Vienna skeleton, and the reconstructed skull.

"Oh my God," Maggie said softly at the sight of the dirt-streaked bones.

"I know, it's a gruesome sight. I don't remember when I finally stopped being unnerved at the sight of a dead body," Ducky agreed.

Maggie shook her head. "It's different from seeing all the skeletons and the mummies in the British Museum. They always seem like museum pieces. But this…this was a person once."

Ducky nodded in agreement, centered the camera and took several photos of the skull from different angles. "Done. Now let's let Mr. Doe sleep for a while. I know Abby's anxious for these photos."

 **xNCISx**

Even with the door to Abby's lab shut, Maggie and Ducky could hear Abby's favorite variety of ear-blasting rock music the minute they stepped off the elevator.

Abby and McGee were standing around Abby's computer – heaven only knew how they could hear each other – shaking their heads in consternation.

"I don't get it, either!" McGee tapped several keys. "The emails should still be on the server."

"That's what I keep telling you! There's something wacky going on, and Mercury's not even in retrograde!" Abby said.

"Fear not, my friends, for I have that which you seek!" Ducky waved the camera over his head as he and Maggie walked in.

"Ducky! My hero!" Abby bolted over and almost knocked Ducky over as she wrapped him in a hug nearly tight enough to choke him. Maggie stood a few paces behind, watching the scene with amusement.

"Ooof! You're quite welcome, Abigail," Ducky said, his voice muffled by Abby's shoulder. "I brought a visitor," he said as he pulled away. "I'd like to introduce…"

"Wait a minute," Abby interrupted. "You're Maggie Clarke, aren't you?"

"The same," Maggie smiled.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so glad to meet you at last – Ducky's told us so much about you!" Abby gave Maggie a hug, though not as rib-cracking as Ducky's. "I'm Abby Sciuto – I'm the forensic analyst. McGee! Come say hello!"

"Are you Timothy? The novelist?" Maggie asked as McGee came over and shook her hand.

"That's right, Thom E. Gemcity," McGee said. "But this latest book's more trouble than it's worth – Tony's been ready to kill me."

Abby took the memory card out of the camera and plugged it into a card reader.

"Sorry you had to do this again, Ducky, but we couldn't find the emails you sent," McGee said.

"Now that's peculiar," Ducky said, "because when I went to resend the photos, I couldn't find them on my computer."

"Not on the hard drive? Or in your email?" McGee frowned.

"Neither place, and they'd already been deleted from the camera," Ducky shrugged. "So I had to take new photos."

"That's definitely weird. How long are you in the city for, Maggie?" McGee asked.

"Oh, not long, only a few days of doing this and that, catching up with Donnie," Maggie said.

"Okay, boys and girls, gather round," Abby said as she downloaded the photos and started up the facial overlay software. Ducky, Maggie and McGee crowded in around her for a closer look. "So here's our dead guy from the construction site – nice photos there, Duckman," she said as the skull photos came up on the screen. "And photo of Taylor coming up in three…two…one..."

Taylor's service record headshot, showing him in his naval dress uniform, popped up on the screen.

Something stirred in the back of Maggie's mind.

 _A grim, square-jawed man with close-cropped hair and a small scar on his forehead…_

"Okay, so we just adjust the size of the photos," Abby said, tapping a few more keys.

That stirring in Maggie's mind got uncomfortably louder.

Abby was now saying something about forensic anthropology, plasticine and head casts, Czar Nicholas II and the Romanovs, but none of it was registering with Maggie.

Why did Taylor look so familiar?

She'd seen him before. She was certain of it. But where?

 _A walking stick, Irish blackthorn with a bulbous silver top, tapping against the floor impatiently…_

And then she remembered, and she felt a chill running down her spine.

 _"I do apologize," the man had said to her. "I'm originally from the D.C. area."_

Ducky suddenly paused in the middle of asking Abby a question and turned to look at Maggie, a look of deep concern on his face. "Maggie, are you all right?"

"Yeah – Maggie, you look like you've seen a ghost," Abby said.

"I think I have," Maggie said quietly.

"What do you mean?" McGee asked, puzzled.

Maggie took a deep breath and pointed at the screen. "That man, Taylor. I've seen him before." She looked squarely at Ducky, Abby and McGee, all of whom stared incredulously back at her. "He was sitting next to me on the train down from New York."

 **xNCISx**

Need I say...stay tuned?


	11. Caught On Camera

**Chapter Eleven: Caught on Camera**

You could hear a pin drop in the lab.

"Are you sure?" Ducky asked.

"I remember that scar on his temple, very clearly. He didn't give his name as Taylor, though. He said his name was…" Maggie scrunched her eyes shut. "Something that started with M, a couple of syllables. Marriner, no…wait! He said his name was Merriman!"

"This is a game-changer, guys. Like, a really huge game-changer." Abby looked at the screen. "And whoever our dead guy is, it's not Taylor. The shape of the face isn't lining up."

"What else do you remember about him?" McGee asked Maggie.

"He seemed nervous and fidgety for the entire trip. At one point, he was looking over my shoulder as I was…" Maggie paled. "Oh, no."

"What?" the others demanded in unison.

"I was reading a news story on my laptop. About NCIS finding the skeleton."

"We've gotta tell Gibbs." Abby dialed Gibbs's extension and put the call on speakerphone.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Gibbs, it's Abby. I'm down in the lab with McGee and Ducky and Ducky's friend Maggie."

"Maggie Clarke?" Gibbs asked. They could hear the other agents suddenly gathering around and asking questions, so Gibbs must have had the call on speakerphone too. "What's going on?"

"We've got something. Something really big." Abby took a deep breath. "Taylor may be still alive. Maggie says she saw him on her train a few days ago."

The voices on the other end raised to shouts. "What? Are you serious?" Gibbs asked.

"Quite serious," Maggie said as she leaned closer to the phone.

"DiNozzo, get Vance. Now," Gibbs ordered. "Meet us up in the squadroom," he said into the phone.

Abby quickly started a cross-check of the skull against the missing persons databases, and hit a few settings so that she could track the database check on her tablet.

Then the four of them headed for the elevator.

"Hold the elevator!" Sanderson came running around the corner just as McGee pressed the button for the bullpen.

"Enter Sandman! You're spending a lot of time down here – got an inkling to be a lab rat?" Abby asked.

"Oh, no, I was just taking care of some stuff," Sanderson said vaguely, watching as the floor numbers ticked by.

The elevator doors opened on the bullpen floor, and Sanderson dashed away toward his desk.

As she hurried after Ducky, Abby and McGee, Maggie cast a gaze over the giant room with its burnt orange walls, rows and rows of cubicles and the giant panel window with its view of the river and the berthed Navy ship.

Gibbs, Tony and Bishop got up and came over to meet them as Vance came down the stairs and Randall jogged over.

"You're kidding. Taylor's back from the dead?" Tony asked. "What did…"

"Introductions first, please," Ducky said firmly, as he started introducing Maggie to each person in turn. "Maggie, may I present Leon Vance, our director. Agent Eleanor Bishop you've met, of course. Agents Anthony DiNozzo…Keisha Randall…and Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"Nice to meet you at last, Ms. Clarke." Gibbs pulled a chair out from his desk and invited Maggie to sit.

Ducky grabbed a spare chair, wheeled it over and sat down next to her.

Maggie took a deep breath and slowly began retelling the story of her train trip, from seeing the man whose name may not have been Merriman in the Amtrak waiting area in New York, to her arrival at Union Station. As she spoke, the group listened intently, and a few other NCIS personnel wandered over to listen.

"Which train were you on?" Gibbs asked.

"It was…I've got it here somewhere." Maggie fished around in her purse. "Here it is." She pulled out the crumpled confirmation email and handed it to Gibbs.

"Train 2161, March 4," Gibbs said. He began giving rapid-fire orders to the rest of the team. "Bishop, call Amtrak and get a passenger manifest for that train."

"On it, boss," Bishop picked up her phone and started dialing.

"McGee, once we've got the manifest I want you to start checking into our mystery guy's credit card info and driver's license. The works."

McGee gave Gibbs a thumbs up and quickly began typing something.

"DiNozzo, we're going to need security video from the waiting areas at Penn Station and Union Station, from around the time the train left and it arrived."

"Gotcha." Tony grabbed his phone and started dialing as well.

Bishop hung up. "They'll have us the passenger list in half an hour."

It was enough to make Maggie's head spin, watching each one of the agents spring into action.

"Are you all right?" Ducky asked softly.

"I'm fine. I'm just wondering what kind of Pandora's Box I've opened on you," Maggie mused.

"Well, some scholars believe it was a jar rather than…" Ducky caught himself. "Don't worry. You've likely done Jethro and the others a very huge favor."

 **xNCISx**

"Okay, right here," Bishop said, pointing to the PDF of the train manifest. "There's a Herbert Merriman, 56, from Piermont, New York."

"Makes him the right age," Gibbs mused. "Taylor was fifty-three when he went missing. McGee, what've you got?"

"Driver's license and info coming up now." McGee tapped a few keys, and a few files came up on the screen. "Says he's an accountant. Credit card statements say he's booked at the Regency."

"That's definitely Taylor," Randall said, gesturing with frustration at the driver's license photo. "How on earth did he slip away like this?"

It was late afternoon when the legal formalities had been taken care of and the security videos arrived from both train stations.

"Okay, here's the footage from Penn." Tony pressed the button on the "clicker."

The video came up on the screen, showing the Amtrak waiting area.

"Maggie, is that you?" Randall asked, pointing to a woman in a green coat on the video.

"Yes, that's me."

"Was Taylor – Merriman – sitting in the waiting area?" Vance asked.

"Yes – that's him there." Maggie pointed to the screen.

"Looks like he's got a walking stick. Did he have a cast on his foot or anything?" Gibbs asked.

"No. I remember one of the red caps asked if he needed help descending to the platform, but he declined."

The passengers in the waiting area headed for the escalator down to the platform.

"Now here's the waiting area at Union Station, just before the train got there," Tony said, bringing up the second video.

"Hey, there's Ducky," Bishop remarked.

The video clearly showed Ducky sitting in the waiting area, pretending to thumb through a magazine while casting frequent glances at the arrivals monitor and his watch.

"Train's just pulling in now," McGee said, looking at the time stamp on the video.

In the video, Ducky stood up, and in the reflection from the monitor, quickly straightened his bow tie and smoothed down his hair.

"Ooooh, smartening yourself up for a special lady there, Duckman?" Tony teased.

Maggie glanced over at Ducky. He was definitely blushing.

"All right, eyes open, people, the train's offloading now," Gibbs said sternly.

The throngs of passengers started to flow through the doorway. "McGee, slow the video down."

Merriman could be seen making his way through the crowd. And then something happened. He came within a few feet of Ducky, and then quickly veered away.

"He recognized you, Duck," Gibbs said.

"You didn't see him?" Vance asked.

Ducky shook his head, now looking very troubled. "I'm afraid that that I was on the lookout for Maggie. And besides, how were we even to know that he would be there?"

"Hindsight's twenty-twenty," Abby shrugged. "Wait – there you are again, Maggie!"

The video showed Ducky waving to Maggie as she made her way through the crowd with her luggage – immediately followed by their exchange of hugs and pecks on the cheek.

Now it was Maggie's turn to blush.

The second camera angle showed Ducky and Maggie walking back into the main station area, and Merriman – or Taylor – watching them from behind a pillar.

"He was watching you. Both of you." Gibbs whirled around. "Duck, have you gotten any threatening phone calls? Seen anyone weird hanging around your house?" he demanded.

"No, of course not!" Ducky said.

"Maggie, has anyone been following you near your hotel?"

"No, not that I've seen."

The videos turned off.

Vance let out a deep sigh. "All right, folks, listen up. Up until now, we've been assuming that Taylor was a crime victim." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I think we need to start taking a different look at him."

There was silence on the bullpen floor as the meaning of Vance's words sank in.

"The embezzlement…" McGee said softly. "He wouldn't let anyone else help with the audits."

"You think Taylor was behind the theft all along?" Tony asked.

"It would explain a lot of things," Gibbs said.

"But the medals – what were the medals going on the dead guy?" Bishop asked.

"Planted, more than likely." Ducky said. "There weren't any clothing fibers caught in the pins, which there would have been if they'd been pinned on, so they were likely resting on top of the body when it was wrapped up. I knew that there was something unusual about them when I was examining the body, but I couldn't put my finger on it."

Abby's tablet beeped. "Hang on, we've got a few possible matches for the skull overlay." Abby tapped on her tablet. "This one looks promising." A few more taps and the information was beamed up onto the flatscreen. "This guy's name is William Downing. Fifty-four, from McLean. Wife reported him missing three years ago…yeah, around the same time Taylor vanished."

"Who did the original investigation?" Gibbs asked.

"McLean PD and Virginia State Police," Abby said.

As Gibbs gave more instructions to the team, Maggie's phone chirped. The caller ID said it was from Julia. Maggie answered the phone and was barely able to get out a hello.

"Maggie, please, you have to come over here now!" Julia said frantically.

Maggie felt the blood drain from her face as she listened to Julia's hysterical story. "Yes…Julia, don't worry, I'll be over as soon as I'm able."

"Maggie?" Ducky asked as Maggie switched off her phone.

"Donnie, I have to get back over to Hourglass. The police are there and Julia's in a terrible state."

"Is everything all right?"

"No." Maggie looked grim. "Julia says that her co-owner's been shot."

 **xNCISx**

Uh-oh, that doesn't sound good.

Stay tuned!


	12. Hue and Cry

Had to reshuffle the storyboard a bit, since it was looking more like the police response at Hourglass would require its own chapter. So here it is - what's going on at Hourglass, and what does it have to do with Taylor? (Quite a bit.) Read on!

 **Chapter Twelve: Hue and Cry**

"Is he dead?" Ducky asked.

"Still alive but only just," Maggie said. "Julia says that he's been rushed to hospital."

"Who's Julia?" Bishop asked.

"Julia Bradley – she's an old friend of mine. She co-owns an antique shop near Dupont Circle, called Hourglass Antiques," Maggie explained.

"Hourglass. That name's familiar for some reason." Gibbs said. "Randall, didn't you…"

"I think we did. Bishop, can you pull up the interviewee list from three years ago, please?" Randall asked.

She leaned over and watched as Bishop pulled up the list on her computer. "Yes, we did. Now I remember. We interviewed one of Hourglass's co-owners back when Taylor went missing – a man named Philip Martin." Randall looked over at Maggie. "Is that who your friend was talking about, Maggie?"

"The very one. Are you saying that you've spoken to him before?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it speaking to him, more like talking to a brick wall." Randall crossed her arms over her chest. "When we went to talk with him when the investigation started, he was really rude and uncooperative. I guess I shouldn't be saying this, but I'm not surprised that someone shot him."

Maggie pursed her lips. "Julia was arguing with him when I came to visit her at the shop, and another woman came in to argue with him later on."

"This is starting to sound like a certain Monty Python sketch. Room 12-A, I'm here for an argument," Ducky remarked.

"What was Martin's connection to Taylor?" Vance asked. "Martin wasn't a Navy guy at some point, was he?"

"No, they knew each other from some woodworking group," Randall said. "We should have it in the files somewhere."

McGee's fingers danced over his keyboard as he did a quick search. "Right here. The Potomac River Woodcraft Society. It's a D.C.-area group for people interested in woodworking and antique furniture. It says here that Martin was the vice president and Taylor was the treasurer."

"Considering what we know now about Taylor, they might want to take a look at the petty cash box," Tony remarked.

"Palladino said something about Taylor not having many friends outside of work, aside from golfing buddies and some group interested in woodcraft," Gibbs mused.

"You ever hear of that group, Gibbs?" Abby asked. "I mean, you're always building boats and furniture and stuff. Maybe you could join them."

"Outside of NCIS, I work best in committees of one," Gibbs said. "Abby, call the state police and ask if they or the FBI have a DNA sample of Downing's that we can work with. If it turns out that our dead guy is Downing, the next step is to notify next of kin, and to find out all we can about his work and personal life – Randall, you do the death notification if it pans out, and Bishop, DiNozzo, you two work on the background check. McGee, you start running a property check in the D.C. area – find any properties that Taylor may have owned or co-owned with Martin or Downing. Including under his alias."

"Maggie, if you want to wait in the lobby, I'll go bring the car around," Ducky said as he pulled his car keys out of his pocket.

"Keys away, Duck," Gibbs said, grabbing his badge and gun. "We're taking the sedan. I want to talk to the detectives handling the case."

 **xNCISx**

A fleet of police cars and a Metro PD crime scene techs' van sat in front of Hourglass Antiques when Ducky, Maggie and Gibbs arrived a short time later. The flashing red and blue lights cast eerie shadows around the darkening street, and a news van was just pulling up to do a live report.

Gibbs introduced himself to the lead detective, showing his badge as he did so. "What's the status of the victim?" he asked.

"At last check, Martin was in critical condition at Washington General," said the detective.

Maggie walked over to the yellow crime scene tape, Ducky close behind her. She was shivering, and not just from the increasingly chilly evening temperatures.

Julia was standing in front of the shop talking to a couple of police officers, with her husband Paul standing close by. Her face was a mixture of horror, disbelief and rage as she spoke.

Maggie began waving her arms in the air. "Julia!"

Julia turned away from the officers and bolted toward Maggie and Ducky. She ducked under the tape and threw her arms around Maggie. "Maggie, thank God you're here, this has been the most awful night."

"Tell me what happened," Maggie urged.

"I'd left something behind in the office – it was an appraisal report that I'd been doing on a client's tea set, fine condition, probably worth about…"

"Julia…" Maggie cut in.

"Yes. I drove back here, and I was surprised to find the lights still on. I'd turned off all the lights before locking up, because Philip always leaves first and Andrew – he's our assistant – heads out at the same time as I do. So I unlocked the door and went in. I was about to head upstairs when I heard Philip up in the office, arguing again." Julia paused and rubbed her arms for warmth as Paul came over and put his arm around her shoulder.

"You've already told the police the whole story, dear, no need to go through it again," Paul said.

"No, I have to," Julia said. "I heard him arguing with someone. I thought it was that awful Parker woman again. But it was a man."

Maggie and Ducky looked at each other as Gibbs came up. "What were they arguing about?" Ducky asked.

"I couldn't catch all of it. I'm supposing it was about money. They kept saying something about 'the account.' Then I heard the door open. Philip yelled, 'I'm done playing games, Taylor, either you give me what I've asked for or…" She blanched. "That's when I heard the shot."

"Did you see the shooter?" Gibbs asked.

"No. I heard someone running down the back staircase and out into the alley, but I didn't try to see who it was. I ran to my car and called 911 on my mobile. I don't know CPR or anything so I couldn't have done anything for Philip."

"Are you sure that's exactly what he said? That he called the shooter 'Taylor?'" Gibbs went on.

"I'm very sure. I'm…" Julia suddenly swayed a little bit. "Oh, God, I need to sit down a bit."

"Mrs. Bradley, we'll need to ask you some more questions – if you could join us over here, please," a uniformed sergeant said as she helped Paul walk Julia back over to the shop entrance.

A tech came walking up with a few plastic evidence bags and showed them to the detective. "Found a few casings in the second-floor office. Looks like they're from a .33."

"Duck...it was a .33 slug you found in the skeleton, wasn't it?" Gibbs asked.

"Indeed it was," Ducky said.

Gibbs turned back to the detective. "We'd like to see the bullet, if possible. There's a possibility that it may be connected to a case we're working on," he said, handing over his card.

He, Maggie and Ducky stood silently for a while, watching the activity.

"What do you think we're dealing with, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky was silent for a moment. "It depends, Jethro," he said with careful deliberateness, "on a number of factors, all of which are now looking increasingly likely. That it was Taylor who either killed William Downing – if indeed it is Downing – or had him killed, and that it was Taylor who shot Philip Martin."

"Go on," Gibbs prompted.

"The fact that Martin and Taylor were arguing about money, as Julia claims, suggests that Martin knew something about the embezzlement of the Navy funds, and may indeed have been involved in the theft itself. As for Downing, I'm not sure how he is connected beyond the Navy medals being on his corpse, but connected he is." Ducky looked grim. "I would venture to say that we are dealing with a cold, depraved, calculating man. One who will use all manner of people to get whatever he wants…"

"And then disposes of them when they are no longer useful or cooperative," Maggie finished quietly, a haunted look in her eyes. She looked at Ducky and Gibbs. "That's what happened with Angus. Godfrey and the other members of the smuggling ring used him until he wasn't useful to him anymore. Until he threatened to expose them. So they killed him."

Gibbs watched as the first of the police cars started to head away. "I'm worried about you."

"Which one of us?" Maggie asked.

"Both of you!" Gibbs said with slightly more energy than he'd intended. "Maggie, you've been in two places that Taylor's showed up in, and I don't believe in coincidences. And Duck – everyone in the Navy and the Marines knows where you live and that you're on my team. Taylor certainly knows who you are."

"Jethro," Ducky said exasperatedly, "there's been no evidence that Taylor has been targeting anyone from NCIS. If you're talking about sending either of us to a safe house, I won't hear of it, and…"

"Jethro," Maggie said as she put a "put a sock in it" hand on Ducky's arm, "Would it make you feel better if one of us phoned you every couple of hours in the evening? To let you know we were all right?"

"That sounds a bit more feasible than a safe house," Gibbs said. "But promise me, both of you, that until we catch this guy, you'll be careful. I know you had plans for the weekend, but I don't want either of you going anywhere unaccompanied after nightfall. If you have to go out, take a cab or something."

Julia and Paul slowly walked away from the shop, with all of the police questioning now done. The news team finished their live report and started to pack up.

The street slowly quietened as the police cars and the onlookers left, little by little. But the increasing silence, and the deepening shadows on the street, had a threatening air about them.

 **xNCISx**

Cue the ominous music. More to follow!


	13. Ten Thousand Miles

And now, we join Maggie and Ducky for dinner and a quiet evening in at Ducky's townhouse.

 **Chapter Thirteen: Ten Thousand Miles**

 _Donald Mallard's house, Georgetown, March 7_

"Do please give me something to do, Donnie," Maggie said.

"Very well – if you would be kind enough to start preparing the vegetables, I'll attend to the chicken," Ducky said as he set a shallow cast-iron pot on the stove.

Maggie picked up a paring knife and cut a green bean in half at a slant. "Like this?"

"Perfect." Ducky picked up his own knife and began chopping an onion. "I see you haven't lost your touch," he remarked, glancing at the growing pile of trimmed beans next to Maggie's knife.

"Some of my friends would be scandalized – the grande dame of the Clarke empire actually being able to find her way into the kitchen," Maggie smiled as she scooped up the cut beans and placed them into a bowl.

"You sound as if you'd rather enjoy scandalizing some of your friends."

"With some of them, everything I do scandalizes them," Maggie said. "When Angus and I were first married, I did the cooking…but after he left his law practice to take over the management of the hotels, he insisted on hiring a cook." She paused for a moment as she thought about this. "It was something I had mixed feelings about."

"Hmm. Well, Angus did…"

Ducky was interrupted by his phone going off where it sat on the kitchen counter. He wiped his hands on a tea towel and answered. "Good evening, Jethro…yes, Maggie and I are still alive…no, we are not seeing Taylor encamped in the shrubbery outside. Is there any word on…oh. I see…yes, Jethro, we'll call back in a little while. Have a good evening…and do please try to get out of that basement once in a while. I can't imagine breathing all that sawdust is good for you."

"Is he building another boat?" Maggie asked as Ducky hung up.

"His fifth, I believe. I've lost count." Ducky finished chopping the onions and put them in the pot to sauté. "It's become a parlor game of sorts among the NCIS personnel: speculate on how Jethro extracts those boats from his basement once he's built them."

"So I can imagine. But that wasn't what he was phoning about, I take it? Did they find something?"

"The DNA tests came back. From the sounds of things, Abby wouldn't give that poor tester a moment's peace until the testing was done," Ducky said. "But it is as we expected – our skeleton is indeed Mr. William Downing."

"Well, that's one riddle solved," Maggie said as she finished trimming the green beans and started quartering a bowl of red potatoes.

"Bishop and Anthony also started looking into Downing's past. Apparently he was a regional bank manager. He was in charge of several bank branches, including the one where NCIS lost track of the missing Navy funds."

Maggie frowned. "Perhaps he had something to do with the theft?"

"I'm prepared to say that beyond a reasonable doubt," Ducky said.

The potatoes were sloshed around with some olive oil, rosemary, sea salt and pepper and went into the oven.

While the chicken was poaching in its wine-and-garlic broth and the potatoes were roasting, Ducky went to the wine cellar and emerged with a bottle.

Maggie looked at the label and her eyes widened. "Donnie, my goodness, where did you get this? This must have cost you dear."

"Oh, quite the contrary. I obtained two cases of it at an auction for a very reasonable sum," Ducky said as he popped the bottle open. "It was a restitution auction – the owner was heading to federal prison over a rather sizeable embezzlement scheme."

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest and gave Ducky a bemused look. "So what you are saying is, we are drinking a criminal's wine."

"Now, now, I certainly do not condone the man's actions, but I can't fault him on his taste in Sancerre Blanc."

A short time later, dinner was ready.

The poached chicken was done to perfection, the rosemary-encrusted potatoes were crisp and golden and the green beans had turned a perfect emerald color following their steam bath.

Ducky set down his knife and fork and gave a contented sigh. "I was looking forward to escorting you out to the Kennedy Center this evening – they're presenting _La Sylphide_ for the next few weeks."

"Oh, Donnie, it's not the end of the world. There will be other stages and other Sylphides." Maggie twirled her wine glass between her thumb and forefinger. "So how do you suggest that we spend the balance of the evening?"

"I suggest that we adjourn to the sitting room, put on some music and consume some more of this wine that was liberated from a thief's cellar."

Outside, a light rain had started to splatter against the windows as Maggie and Ducky cleared the table and headed for the sitting room.

Ducky set the wine bottle and his glass down on the end table and began starting a fire in the fireplace.

"Was there any sort of music that you wanted?" Maggie asked as she scanned the shelf of records next to the turntable.

"Oh, no, I'll let you choose," Ducky said, striking a match and lighting up the wadded newspaper he'd stuck under the logs in the grate. The fire slowly grew in strength until it was a cheerfully crackling blaze.

Maggie pulled out a record that had struck her interest: a selection of traditional Irish and Scottish ballads. The soft, lilting strains of guitar, flute and fiddle filled the room as she lowered the needle on the record.

There was a tartan wool blanket in blues, greens and plums draped over the back of the sofa. Ducky shook it out and spread part of it over his lap as he waited for Maggie to join him.

She sat down and curled up next to him under the blanket, wine glass in hand.

For a while, they sat there, just listening to the music and the crackle of the fire.

Maggie didn't remember the last time she'd sat on the sofa with someone with a glass of wine in the evening. More often than not in recent years, Angus had gone straight off to his study after supper in the evenings, if he even decided to stay in, and Maggie would usually retire to her own sitting room with a book.

As for Ducky, it had been a long time, much too long, since he'd shared his sitting room and the contents of his wine cellar with a female companion.

It was probably the combination of the wine, the firelight and a full stomach, but Maggie soon found herself feeling pleasantly warm and drowsy.

She realized that she was resting her head on Ducky's shoulder, and that he'd reached up and started to stroke her hair.

The idea of going back to The Eyrie for the night, even though they planned to drive the short distance for safety reasons, was sounding less and less appealing – especially not when the bedrooms upstairs looked so comfortable. Maggie had gotten a glimpse of the guest room when she'd gone upstairs to freshen up before dinner, and she was wondering why she'd insisted on taking a room at The Eyrie in the first place.

Ducky's thoughts, it should be noted, were running on parallel tracks. _I should ask her if she'd like to stay the night. It'll only take a moment to get the guest room ready, though at this rate I'm not sure we'll be needing separate…careful, Mallard, those are dangerous thoughts you're having._

"I don't want this to end," Maggie whispered before she realized she'd said it out loud.

"Don't want what to end?" Ducky asked.

"This," Maggie said simply. "All of this."

"Neither do I," Ducky said. "Do you suppose…if life had turned out differently, for the both of us…"

"If I'd gotten on that train with you all those years ago, you mean," Maggie finished.

"Perhaps this is how we would have been spending our evenings for the past forty-five years?"

"Perhaps. Maybe there would have been some little Mallards. And at this point, a few grand-Mallards, maybe." Maggie turned her gaze back to the fire. "I suppose we'll never know…at least we have this moment here, now."

The next song on the record was the old ballad "Ten Thousand Miles."

 _"_ _Fare you well, my own true love…farewell for a while, I'm going away…but I'll be back, if I go ten thousand miles…"_

With more than a slight pang, Maggie remembered that the day after tomorrow, she'd be getting on a plane back to London.

Too soon, much too soon.

 _"_ _Oh, don't you see, yon lonesome dove…sitting on yon ivy tree, he's weeping for…their own true love, as I shall weep for mine…"_

Maggie looked up and noticed that Ducky was blinking rather rapidly.

"I'm sorry – this song's always made me a bit melancholy," he said.

Maggie put her glass down on the table and kissed Ducky on the cheek – and it wasn't just a quick peck, either.

He set his own glass down, cupped her face in his hands, and at long last, they kissed. For quite a long time.

As they did, Maggie slipped her arms around Ducky's neck as he put his arms around her waist, pulling each other closer.

The song continued to play in the background.

 _"_ _Oh, come back, my own true love…and stay a while with me…if I had a friend, all on this earth…you've been a friend to me…"_

Everything slowly melted away in that moment: the hunt for Taylor, Maggie's pending departure, all the doubts and uncertainties of the last several months.

For now, it was just them.

 **xNCISx**

Future historians will decide if Ducky and Maggie would still have been as blissfully happy, as they were at that moment, if someone had told them that there was a black SUV parked just across the street from Ducky's house.

For there WAS just such a black SUV parked across the street at that very moment, with a clear view of the window to the sitting room. And the vehicle's occupants were intently watching Maggie and Ducky with a pair of high-powered binoculars.

 **xNCISx**

Uh-oh...

Reviews, etc. welcome. Stay tuned...


	14. Betrayal

**Chapter Fourteen: Betrayal**

The rain-slicked SUV had tinted windows, all the better for hiding a decidedly unsavory form of surveillance.

Two people, a man and a woman, sat inside, their eyes trained on the sitting room window of Dr. Mallard's townhouse across the street.

"Are they still there?" the man asked, looking at his watch.

"Oh, yeah, definitely…they've had dinner and it looks as if they're ready for dessert," the woman smirked as she lowered the binoculars.

"I guess it's true what they say about him. He's old but not dead," the man said. He paused. "Look, I've been thinking…"

The man's cell phone went off, and he put it on speakerphone. "Yes?"

"Where are you two?" Taylor's voice demanded.

"We're outside Mallard's townhouse. He and the Clarke woman are inside smooching on the sofa," the woman said.

"Do you see anyone from NCIS or the feds or the police nearby?"

"Nope, street's all clear," she said.

"Good. Move in. Now."

"Taylor, shouldn't we…" the man started.

"We're past waiting!" Taylor snapped. "NCIS is practically breathing down our necks!"

"Come on, Taylor! I did everything I could! I made sure that a few things got lost at headquarters, and…"

"Be back here with them in half an hour. Stay alert for further instructions. And remember. If I go down, I'm taking you both with me!"

"Do you realize I'm sacrificing my career for you?" the man demanded.

"Oh, yes…and how do you think NCIS will react when they realize they've got a traitor in their midst?"

The call disconnected with a few beeps.

The man leaned back in the seat and cursed. "I never should have suggested this. It's too risky!"

"Shut up! You heard him – this is our last chance to stay out of prison!" the woman snapped. "You said yourself that Gibbs will do anything if Mallard's in trouble. Anything!"

The man rested his hand on his hip – and the revolver that rested in the holster there. "All right. Let's go duck hunting."

 **xNCISx**

Abby, like Gibbs, had gut feelings. And they were sending her red alerts – which was why on a Saturday night, she was watching NCIS security videos with McGee instead of going out bowling with the nuns.

"Come on," she urged as the files slowly downloaded.

There were two videos from earlier in the week that Abby and McGee were especially interested in: one from the forensics lab and one from the autopsy suite.

"So, let's see who's been pulling a Fred Rinnert on us." Abby brought up the first video file and pressed the play button.

The video showed Abby working on several different before exiting the lab. Then…

"Stop the video, right there," McGee said.

Someone in the video, with their back to the security camera, went to Abby's computer, unlocked it and clicked on something. It was too far away to see the details, but there was definitely a skull photo on the screen for a second.

The second video showed the mysterious someone repeating the same ritual in the autopsy suite: clicking on something on the computer, and then reaching into the desk drawer where Ducky kept the digital camera.

The person turned to exit, and their face was visible in the video.

Abby and McGee's jaws dropped in unison.

 **xNCISx**

A knocking at the door cut into Maggie and Ducky's tender moment.

They turned to look in the direction of the front hallway.

"Now who could that be at this hour?" Ducky wondered.

"You weren't expecting Jethro or one of the others, were you?" Maggie asked.

"No – I do need to phone him in a few minutes, though."

There was another knock, followed by the ringing of the doorbell.

Ducky rolled his eyes. "Wait here," he said to Maggie. He stood up and headed for the front door, muttering some particularly colorful Glaswegian expletives under his breath.

 _We always seem to be interrupted,_ Maggie thought with mild frustration as she went to the fireplace and jabbed at some of the logs with the poker. She heard a few beeps out in the hallway as Ducky turned off the alarm, and there was the sound of the door opening.

"Sorry to bother you at home, Dr. Mallard," a younger male voice said.

"Agent Sanderson, this is unexpected. What brings you here?"

"It's about the case, I'm afraid. There is something I need to…"

Their voices got progressively quieter.

The record stopped, and Maggie went to flip it over to the other side. As she did, she listened to the voices in the hallway.

Sanderson sounded like he was explaining something. Ducky kept asking questions, in a voice that was growing more suspicious.

Maggie put the record down on the turntable, but did not lower the needle.

There was a pause in the conversation in the hallway.

"Sanderson, don't be a fool!" Ducky said in a loud whisper.

Something was wrong. Maggie could sense it.

"Donnie, is everything all right out there?" she called.

"I…everything's all right, Maggie! Just stay where you are!" Ducky called back.

Something was very wrong indeed.

Maggie edged closer to the sitting room door, close enough that she could see out into the hallway, and felt her blood turn to ice.

Ducky stood there, completely still, facing the open front door.

Special Agent Liam Sanderson was standing just inside the door, rain dripping off of his black NCIS-issue jacket. And he had a gun pointed at Ducky's chest.

Maggie pressed herself against the wall as she frantically tried to figure out what to do.

Her mobile was in her purse, which was out on the hallway table.

The landline phone...she'd seen it on the desk in the study.

Maggie ran to the study as fast as she could and grabbed the phone from its cradle.

"Don't even think about it!" a woman's voice shouted from somewhere behind her.

Maggie dropped the phone with a clatter and whirled around as a woman came to stand in the study doorway. "You put that phone down or the doc's going to be a dead Ducky," the woman threatened as she pointed a gun at Maggie.

It was the woman from Hourglass. The one who'd come to argue with Philip Martin.

"You…you're that Parker woman," Maggie said coldly. "Becca, I believe your name is?"

Parker's strawberry-glossed upper lip curled. "Liam was right. You do have a memory for faces, Maggie Clarke," she said as she slowly walked into the study. "You and your boyfriend damn near ruined everything for us. It's a miracle we haven't killed you both already, but Taylor insisted you were more valuable to us alive."

Maggie now stood with her back to the desk, her hands braced against the desk's edge.

She began running her hands around on the desk's surface behind her back, slowly enough that Parker couldn't see.

There was something that she'd seen there earlier…

"What do you want?" Maggie demanded, stalling for time.

"You and Dr. Mallard are going to be taking a little ride with us," Parker sneered. "Taylor really wants to see you again."

Maggie's fingers closed around something with a smooth handle and a cold metal blade.

A letter opener.

Carefully, she slipped the letter opener up the left sleeve of her sweater with as little movement as possible.

Ducky came in, with Sanderson following right behind.

Ducky went and stood next to Maggie. "I don't need to tell you again, Sanderson, that you're making a terrible mistake," Ducky said, subtly reaching behind him for the pencil and notepad by the phone.

"Spare me the lecture on the morals, Dr. Mallard," Sanderson said derisively.

"Are you really willing to throw away your career at NCIS like this? For a man like Taylor?" Ducky demanded.

"You don't know anything about…"

Sanderson abruptly stopped when "Scotland the Brave" started playing from the kitchen.

His eyes narrowed. "Who's calling you?" he demanded.

"I'm sure I wouldn't know," Ducky said nonchalantly as he quickly dropped the pencil.

"Get the phone," Sanderson told Parker.

She returned a few moments later and angrily held up the phone. "Let me guess. Gibbs wanting to check that all's well in the duck pond?" she asked sarcastically. The caller ID said "Missed Call: Jethro."

The desk phone began ringing as well.

Parker cursed, threw the cell phone down and pointed toward the French doors at the back of the study. "Enough time-wasting. Out!"

"But it's cold out, could we at least get our coats?" Maggie pleaded.

"No coats!" Sanderson yanked the doors open. "Move!"

With Sanderson and Parker following, Maggie and Ducky stepped out into the courtyard behind the townhouse and started to walk to the narrow alleyway leading to the street.

Sanderson and Parker were warm enough in their weatherproof jackets, but Maggie and Ducky started to shiver uncontrollably as the chilly night air bit through their clothes and the rain fell on them.

Their captors pointed them to the SUV parked across the street from the house.

Parker yanked open the back door and ordered Maggie and Ducky inside. She climbed in after them, keeping the gun trained on them, as Sanderson got into the front seat and started the engine.

"Floor it!" Parker yelled.

The tires squealed as the SUV zoomed down to the end of the block and around the corner, disappearing into the night.

 **xNCISx**

On a night like this, Gibbs would have been down in the basement, in his usual element of sawdust and bourbon.

Instead he was driving to Georgetown.

Ducky hadn't been answering either his cell or his home phone, and he'd told Gibbs that he would be staying in that evening.

Gibbs pulled to a stop in front of the townhouse and went up the front steps.

Ducky had given Gibbs and some of the other team members spare copies of his house key, as well as the alarm code. But when Gibbs tried the front door, he found that it was unlocked, and the alarm was turned off.

"Duck?" Gibbs called. "Maggie?"

No answer.

Gibbs looked at the coat rack. Ducky's trench coat and Maggie's turquoise coat were still there, and Maggie's purse was on the hall table. Then he looked at the floor. There were a few sets of wet footprints.

Carefully sidestepping them, he followed the footprints back to the study, taking his gun out as he went.

The French doors were slightly ajar.

On the desk, someone had scribbled something on the notepad next to the phone.

Gibbs read the scribbles: Ducky's own variety of shorthand.

"J. R1. SOS."

Rule One. Never screw over your partner.

Gibbs hastily pulled out his phone.

"Get a team over to Ducky's house! Now!"

 **xNCISx**

To be continued...


	15. Crisis Mode

There's danger afoot, and the clock is ticking!

 **Chapter Fifteen: Crisis Mode**

 _NC_ _IS Headquarters_

Bishop's fingers flew over the keyboard as she frantically assembled a missing person alert.

"Missing, believed endangered: Donald Mallard and Margaret Clarke, believed to have been abducted from Mallard's residence in Georgetown at or around 8:45 p.m. on March 7."

That alert was quickly emailed out to local, state and federal law enforcement in D.C., Virginia and Maryland, with Ducky's NCIS ID photo and Maggie's passport photo attached. And it would be all over the news any minute.

Bishop slumped forward at her desk, massaging her temples as she fought off a growing sense of despair.

 _Ducky…kidnapped. And Maggie with him. It didn't seem real,_ Bishop thought.

On top of that, an NCIS agent was responsible. One of their own.

Gibbs had sent out an all-hands-on-deck call the minute he found that Maggie and Ducky were missing, so the NCIS office – usually quiet as the tombs on a Saturday night – was a hive of frantic activity.

"That was Fornell. He's on his way over with the rest of the FBI team," Tony said as he dropped his phone. The fact that he hadn't once made his usual joke about the FBI showed just how serious the situation was.

On the other side of the bullpen, Abby and McGee were talking to Vance and Randall about their discovery on the security videos.

"We've been going over the security video from the forensics lab and the autopsy suite," Abby said. "Both McGee and I had a suspicion that someone was pulling a Fred Rinnert on us. And we were right." She held up two screenshots. One showed Sanderson at Abby's computer, deleting what appeared to be the emails from Ducky with the skull photos. The other showed Sanderson in the autopsy suite – right after Ducky had left for his outing with Maggie in Rock Creek Park, according to the date and time stamp – deleting the original photos from the camera and the computer.

"I don't think that's the only evidence that got 'lost,'" McGee said. "Sanderson was in charge of doing some of the computer analysis when Taylor first disappeared, right?" He shook his head. "It'd explain why we couldn't find any evidence of where the money went after it went to the bank in Springfield. And that was where Downing worked!"

"And I checked with the courier from the lab. He brought back the DNA results, but it was Sanderson who signed for them. He was probably waiting for the results!" Abby said. "I'll bet he's been sabotaging our investigation since the beginning!"

"What I don't understand is, why?" Randall asked. "Sanderson wasn't perfect, but he was a good agent! He was loyal to NCIS! Why would he even be working with Taylor in the first place?"

"Folks, we'll hand Sanderson's head to him on a platter later," Vance said. "Right now our focus is rescuing Maggie and Ducky."

The elevator dinged, and Palmer came running in. Breena was right behind him, eyes red and swollen from crying.

"I came as soon as I heard." Palmer skidded to a stop by Gibbs's desk. "Please tell me you've got something. Anything!"

"We're doing all we can, Palmer," Gibbs assured him. "Go home and get some rest. We'll call you as soon as we've got something to report."

"No!" Palmer protested. "I'm staying here! I'm not sitting by while Ducky and Maggie are in danger!"

"Fine," Gibbs said. "Go help Abby. She's processing some of the evidence from Ducky's house and she needs another pair of hands. Breena, do you want something from the break room? Coffee?"

"No thanks." Breena's phone bleated. "It's my parents." She ran to the side of the room to answer. "Hi, Dad…no. No, there's no news. Yes, we're worried sick!"

Vance came over to Gibbs's desk. "Please tell me we've got something to go on."

"We've been trying to get info from the neighbors. Anyone who saw anything," Gibbs said. "Metro PD's been helping us with beating the bushes, and we're trying to nail down any locations that Taylor could be using as a hideout."

"Which could be any number of places," Vance said.

"Rule One. Never screw over your partner." Gibbs looked down at the notepad he had taken from Ducky's study. "Ducky knew I would read this and know that someone from NCIS was involved. But a kidnapping with two adult victims – no way Sanderson was working alone on that."

"Everything we know about Taylor indicates he generally palmed his work off on underlings. So there's at least a third person involved in all this. The question is, who?" Vance asked.

"A neighbor says she saw four people getting into an SUV parked near Ducky's place around quarter to nine. She remembers because it was illegally parked and she was about to call the towing company." Tony held up a piece of paper. "And she got the plate number. Thank God for nosy neighbors."

Bishop quickly ran the plate. "The vehicle is a late-model Ford, registered to…" She frowned. "The vehicle is a company car that belongs to a consulting firm based out of Arlington. Maxham and Parker."

"Get the vehicle info off to the state police and the FBI, now," Gibbs said. "And it's probably got a smart tag, so check with VDOT."

"Maxham and Parker. What kind of work do they do?" Tony asked as he started accessing the smart tag database.

"They're high-profile, lots of work with government and military agencies. Could be a connection to Taylor through there, but we'd have to deep dive," Bishop said.

"And we've got another issue," Vance said. "Ducky's a naturalized citizen, of course, but Maggie's a British national. If anything happens to her while she's on U.S. soil, we're going to have the British Embassy to deal with as well."

Gibbs's desk phone suddenly rang. The caller ID said that it was a "Merriman, H."

Gibbs quickly hit the speakerphone button and motioned for McGee to start tracing the call. "Yeah, Special Agent Gibbs."

"It's been a long time, Leroy Jethro Gibbs." The name said Merriman, but the voice, cold and nasal, was Taylor's.

Gibbs cursed. "Taylor, you bastard! What have you done with them?"

"Done with who?" Taylor asked.

"You know damn well who I'm talking about. Dr. Mallard and Maggie Clarke!"

Taylor laughed. "Oh, Gibbs. Patience has never been one of your greatest virtues. I remember how much of a pain in the ass it was dealing with you when I was still at the Pentagon." His voice hardened. "But if you want to see your medical examiner and his lady friend alive again, you'll listen very carefully. I am going to ask for a meeting, at a certain location and at a time of my choosing. I will call back within the hour with instructions."

"First you tell me where my ME and his friend are!"

"No. My game, my rules. Once again, I will call back in the hour. I have your cell phone number. Do as I say, Gibbs, or you'll be getting Dr. Mallard and Ms. Clarke back in body bags. Unless I decide to do with them like I did with Downing." The call clicked off.

Gibbs slammed the desk in frustration.

McGee sighed. "I couldn't get a complete trace on the call, but I did get a general location from the cell towers. He's somewhere in the area of Fairfax."

"Start cross-checking that with the property list," Gibbs said.

Tony waved to Gibbs. "Boss, we were able to get a hit off of the SUV's smart tag." He had a log from the Virginia Department of Transportation pulled up on his computer. "It was on the interstate a short time ago around Dunn Loring, but it hasn't pinged since. So I'm guessing that the vehicle has exited the highway," Tony said. "That means that they could be somewhere in the Vienna or Fairfax area."

Gibbs called all the agents over. "All right, everyone, listen up. We've got enough to figure out the general location of where Dr. Mallard and Maggie Clarke might have been taken. Taylor is somewhere around Fairfax, and he's connected to at least two properties there. The FBI and the state police are going to be assisting us in the search."

Randall was the next to speak. "Agent Liam Sanderson, as you know, is believed to be one of the individuals responsible for abducting Dr. Mallard and Ms. Clarke, and he is to be assumed as armed and dangerous. Arrest him on sight."

"Any last questions?" Gibbs asked. "Didn't think so. Move out!"

The team immediately grabbed their gear and headed for the elevators. McGee was carrying his laptop, so he could continue checking the NCIS databases from the road.

"As soon as you rescue Maggie and Ducky, I get to punch Sanderson first!" Palmer called as the team headed out.

"No, I've got first dibs on Benedict Arnold! He hacked my computer!" Abby shouted.

"Get in line," Vance retorted.

A few minutes later, a convoy of NCIS vehicles, lights and sirens blaring, was zooming out of the parking lot and making its way toward the river and the Virginia bridges. A couple of unmarked cars from the FBI soon joined them, and the state and local police cars were across the river waiting to join them.

Gibbs was once again leading the parade in the blue sedan. Randall was in the passenger seat, talking to her team on her cell phone.

Gibbs's hands were on the steering wheel and his eyes were on the road, but his mind was on Ducky.

It was just like that terrible night when Ducky had been kidnapped by Vincent Hanlan and his mother. The incident had ended well, with Ducky needing nothing more than some minor patching up at the hospital, but Gibbs hadn't forgotten the gut-wrenching terror of those twenty-four hours.

Ducky was his oldest friend and colleague at NCIS. It was always nerve-wracking for Gibbs whenever anyone on his team was in danger, but whenever it was Ducky, it was a whole lot scarier.

And Maggie – Gibbs had only known the soft-spoken, no-nonsense British woman for a short time, but it already felt like she was family.

 _We're coming, Duck. Hang on._

 **xNCISx**

And the hunt is on! Will our heroes be in time?

Reviews welcome!


	16. Face to Face

As Gibbs and the convoy race through the night, we rejoin Maggie and Ducky and their abductors.

 **Chapter Sixteen: Face to Face**

 _Somewhere on Interstate 495, northern Virginia_

It was dark in the backseat of the SUV as the vehicle sped south on the interstate.

The only light to be seen was the cold glare of the halogen lights on the highway, flashing by two by two, as a light rain continued to spatter on the windshield.

Ducky sat in the middle of the backseat, with Maggie to his right and Parker to his left. The highway lights glinted menacingly off the gun in Parker's hand.

Ducky's mouth was dry, and his heart was thundering in his chest as he mentally counted off the exits.

 _Jethro's coming,_ he kept telling himself. _The team is coming. We'll be rescued soon._

He kept praying for something. Anything to make the police notice the SUV. A dead taillight or an obstruction over the license plate.

But the miles ticked by, and with each passing moment, Ducky felt increasingly helpless.

He never should have opened the front door to Sanderson. That in itself should have been a warning. He should have seen the signs – with evidence going missing, it pointed to someone from NCIS sabotaging the investigation from within.

That one lapse of judgement had now put him and Maggie in genuine peril.

Maggie, meanwhile, was trying to hold on to whatever shreds of bravery she still had left. Her thoughts wandered to the letter opener in her sleeve…but what good was it going to do against two able-bodied kidnappers with guns?

For the first time in her life, Maggie began to feel something bordering on genuine fear. Not even the confrontation with Gareth Godfrey, when he had been holding her and Ducky hostage at knifepoint, had been as terrifying as the predicament they were in now.

 _Where are they taking us,_ she wondered. _And what are they going to do with us?_

The answer couldn't be good, she knew.

Ducky reached for Maggie's hand and squeezed it.

"Hands where I can see them!" Parker snapped.

Ducky and Maggie quickly returned their hands to their laps.

Sanderson smirked. "If you two were thinking of trying something back there, forget it."

Sanderson's cell phone went off, and he hit the speakerphone button. "We're on our way, Taylor. Had to take the long way around – there was an accident blocking the roads in Rosslyn. But we should be coming up on the turnoff soon."

"Get off the interstate and take the local roads!" Taylor said curtly.

"What do you mean? The roads are clear!" Sanderson said, confused.

"The state police already have a BOLO out on your car, you jackass!"

"What?" Sanderson said in disbelief. "How is that possible?"

"The hell would I know – you're the one who's around Gibbs and his pack of hounds day in and day out!" Taylor retorted. "Get off the highway at the next exit."

"But, Taylor, that'll add another twenty minutes or…"

"If the police catch you, you won't get here at all!" The call ended.

Sanderson slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Dammit, Becca, why'd you suggest using your dad's company car!"

"Don't bitch at me, Liam! You wanted a dark, non-descript SUV, and I provided!" Parker snapped. "And the kidnapping was your idea, remember, Mr. Special Agent?"

"If I might say something, it was probably the result of your being parked on the street, likely in an unauthorized spot, long enough for an attentive neighbor to record the license plate number…"

"Shut up, Mallard, or I'll shoot you right here!" Parker jabbed the gun in Ducky's face.

Ducky immediately obliged, but he and Maggie shot each other a quick glance while Sanderson and Parker had another argument.

 _Their operation is falling apart,_ he thought. _They're under increasing stress, and all three of them are at each other's throats. They're going to make mistakes._

Maggie very subtly turned her left wrist upwards and pointed to the cuff of her sweater.

Ducky caught a glimpse of something poking out. His heart leapt as he recognized the blue-and-bronze lacquered handle of his favorite letter opener.

Sanderson changed lanes, repeatedly looking over his shoulder for any signs of red and blue flashing lights, and headed for the nearest exit off the interstate.

Once off the highway ramp, Sanderson began taking a long, twisty route, making sure that no one was tailing them. The route took the SUV through neighborhoods of suburban tract housing, and past strip malls and office complexes, all closed for the night.

Both Maggie and Ducky tried to keep their eyes out for landmarks and street signs, in the event that they were able to contact Gibbs, but the darkness and the dim street lamps made it hard to see.

But Ducky soon recognized some of the streets heading toward Vienna. It already seemed like a lifetime ago when the team had been called out to…

 _My God, are they taking us back to the construction site?_ he thought with a shudder of horror.

But no, Sanderson kept driving until they passed a welcome sign for Fairfax.

After a few more minutes, minutes that seemed like an eternity, Sanderson finally turned the SUV into the empty parking lot of a drab-looking three-story office building on the outskirts of town.

There was a light on in an office on the third floor.

Whatever optimism Maggie and Ducky had been feeling now started to drain away. The building was set at the back of the parking lot, a long way from the street – and certainly a long way away from any place that might have a phone.

"Bring it around to the back," Parker ordered.

Sanderson drove around to the back of the building, passing several bins full of construction debris. Doubtless the building was undergoing some sort of renovation.

Finally, the SUV drove into a small garage attached to the back of the building and parked next to another car, a non-descript dark green sedan. The garage door rolled down, shutting them inside.

Sanderson turned off the engine and turned around. "We're here!" he said with mock cheeriness.

He and Parker yanked the doors open and ordered Maggie and Ducky out of the SUV.

The group went through the inner door at the top of a short flight of steps. A short corridor led them into the building's darkened lobby.

The well-worn industrial-grade carpet was choked with dust and the air smelled strongly of fresh paint and drywall. Two flights of stairs, one at each end of the lobby, led to the upper floors and the basement level, and the elevator had a giant "Out of Order" sign across its doors.

"Took you long enough," a nasal-sounding voice said impatiently from one of the stairwells.

Maggie and Ducky turned in the direction of the voice as its owner stepped out into the lobby.

There he was. Taylor.

He wore a plain beige sweater, dark chinos and loafers. He looked surprisingly ordinary – aside from the gun in his hand.

"I told you two to turn off the damn smart tag," he snarled at Sanderson and Parker. Then he turned his attention to Maggie and Ducky, a smirk growing across his face. "The legendary Dr. Donald 'Ducky' Mallard, in the flesh," he said. "It was so much easier for me when you thought that pile of bones on your autopsy table was me."

"Don't lose hope. At this rate, you may end up as one of my guests after all," Ducky said curtly.

"Oh, I seriously doubt that. And you…" Taylor looked meaningfully at Maggie. "My fellow train passenger, Maggie Clarke." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You have a rare gift, my dear Ms. Clarke. A memory for faces and a keen sense of body language. But that gift has served you too well."

"And you, Mr. Taylor, or Mr. Merriman, or whatever your name is, continue to have appalling manners – as do your associates," Maggie said with as much venom as she could muster. "The three of you ruined what was turning out to be a very pleasant evening. But seeing as you have this habit of killing people and stealing large amounts of money, I suppose common courtesy is very low on your list of priorities."

Taylor's smirk started to turn back into a scowl.

"My sentiments exactly," Ducky said to Maggie. Turning back to Taylor, he said, "But perhaps you will be kind enough to tell us exactly why you organized this entire dog and pony show."

Taylor's scowl deepened. "Thirty-two years of service I gave the United States Navy. Years of sacrifice and drudgery. I had skills…valuable skills, more than those fools at the Pentagon could ever appreciate." He paced the lobby, looking like a caged animal. "I should have made captain. Admiral, even. But I was passed over. Again and again."

"You were a ranking officer. A lieutenant commander, with a long and decorated career! Wasn't that worth anything to you?" Ducky demanded incredulously.

"Don't you talk to me about morals and honor and service," Taylor snapped. "So I decided that I'd take back some of what was owed me, with interest."

He paused for a moment. "Martin and Downing…two men who felt underappreciated, as did I. We planned the whole thing. Set up an account overseas with money that we'd pilfered from our respective workplaces. And then Downing got greedy…"

"So you killed him." Maggie finished.

"The Navy auditors were getting suspicious, so I'd been trying to figure out how to disappear. Had the idea to plant my medals and tags on Downing after I shot him in an argument, and then dump him somewhere."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the idea of planting the medals on Downing's corpse was hopelessly melodramatic, like something out of a badly-written mystery novel," Ducky said. "It almost immediately pointed to a faked death."

Taylor took a few steps forward so that he was inches away from Ducky's face. "You do like getting inside people's heads, Ducky Mallard, with those fancy psychology degrees," he said in a low and dangerous voice. "But they're not going to help you or Maggie now. Do you hear sirens? Do you see flashing lights? No. Despite my accomplices' boneheaded mistakes," he said as Sanderson and Parker frowned, "you are here. My prisoners. My bargaining chips." He stepped back. "There is no way that Leroy Jethro Gibbs and NCIS can save you now."

His tone changed and he started barking orders. "Parker, upstairs. I need your help with something in the office. Sanderson!"

"Yes, Taylor?"

"Take Dr. Mallard and Ms. Clarke down to the basement and lock them up."

 **xNCISx**

Hurry, Gibbs, hurry!

Reviews welcome!


	17. What's The Time, Mr Wolf?

Oh, Taylor and his crew aren't playing around. In this chapter, Maggie and Ducky manage to get themselves out of the frying pan...but do they end up in the fire?

 **Chapter Seventeen: What's the Time, Mr. Wolf?**

Maggie and Ducky stumbled into the darkened stairwell as Sanderson jabbed the muzzle of the gun into their backs.

"Down the stairs, now. You've had it easy up to here," Sanderson ordered.

"If this is your definition of easy, I'd be curious to see your definition of difficult," Maggie quipped.

"Shut up!" Sanderson barked.

As they made their way down the stairs, Parker's voice could be heard at the top of the stairs behind them.

"Liam! I need the car keys back!" Parker screeched from where she stood in the stairwell door.

Sanderson rolled his eyes, fished the keys out of his pocket and tossed them up the stairs to her. She caught them with an ease suggesting that she played softball or lacrosse in high school.

Turning, Sanderson continued herding Maggie and Ducky down the stairs into the building's lowest recesses.

At the bottom of the stairs, Sanderson flipped a switch, and a cold, bluish light flickered on.

The basement level was cold and damp, and reeked of mold, and drops of water could be heard dripping onto the floor. Even though it was the lower floor of an office building, it felt more like a dungeon.

This level of the building was obviously undergoing some renovations, along with the rest of the building. Toolboxes, wrenches and plumber's flashlights were scattered all around, and there were piles of pipes stacked against the cement-block wall.

"Sorry we couldn't find nicer accommodations for you two," Sanderson said with a noticeable amount of sarcasm. "Now, do you see that room down at the end there?"

An open door at the end of the hallway led to what appeared to be the boiler room/janitor's closet. A maze of pipes and a slop sink were just visible inside the door.

And standing by the door was a large roll of industrial-grade plastic sheeting. And several rolls of duct tape.

Ducky felt his stomach clench rather violently. Undoubtedly they were the same brands used to dispose of Downing's body.

"Sanderson…" he said as he ran his tongue over his dry lips, "what exactly are you planning to do with us?"

"Oh, we'll figure that out once Taylor's done his negotiating with NCIS and Gibbs. Right now, we just need you two out of the way." Sanderson smirked as he urged Maggie and Ducky forward toward the boiler room. "Once we are in that room, you, Dr. Mallard, are going to tie up Ms. Clarke. And then I am going to tie you up."

Both Maggie and Ducky were starting to feel more and more like mice caught in a trap, with a very hungry cat behind them.

But Maggie noticed Ducky eyeing the pipes stacked by the wall.

"Maggie," Ducky suddenly asked, as casually as possible, "have you gotten any letters recently?"

"No talking," Sanderson growled.

"Have you gotten any letters recently?" Ducky repeated.

"What's this about?" Sanderson demanded.

Maggie reached inside her left sleeve. Yes, the letter opener was there.

She started to say, "Why, yes. I did receive one not too…"

She tripped over a toolbox, stumbled and fell to her knees.

Or at least, that's what it looked like she did.

Sanderson rolled his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake, get up," he said as he shifted his gun to his left hand and leaned over to grab Maggie by the shoulder…

And in a split second, Maggie whipped the letter opener out of her sleeve and jammed it into Sanderson's bicep as hard as she could.

"Owww!" Sanderson howled. "You b…"

But he didn't have a chance to finish that sentence because Ducky brought a pipe smashing down on his head.

Sanderson slumped to the floor in a heap.

Maggie and Ducky stood there for a moment, trying to catch their breaths.

"Rule nine," Ducky said.

Maggie frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"One of Jethro's myriad rules. Never go anywhere without a knife." Ducky dropped to his knees and pressed his fingers to Sanderson's carotid artery. "Good. He's only unconscious. Quickly, now – let's tie him up before he comes round."

Maggie quickly loosened Sanderson's tie and used it to bind his wrists to an exposed pipe, while Ducky pulled out one of Sanderson's shoelaces and wrapped it around the unconscious man's ankles.

"Knot tying. One of the few things I remember from Girl Guides," Maggie said bemusedly.

"Check his pockets, too," Ducky said.

Maggie began searching the pockets of Sanderson's jacket. "He doesn't have his mobile. He must have left it in the car."

"And Miss Parker has the keys," Ducky shook his head. "So the only other…"

"Wait, what's this?" Maggie pulled a black leather object out of Sanderson's pocket and opened it. It was Sanderson's NCIS badge and ID card.

"We'll have to hand that off to Agent Randall once this is all over," Ducky said. "I doubt she'll be pleased that one of her own has turned his coat."

"We need to find a way to get word to Jethro. There may be a phone upstairs...where those two are." Maggie looked grim. "In some bizarre way, this is a bit like our old childhood games of 'What's the Time, Mr. Wolf.'"

Ducky nodded. "Or as Timothy would put it, we're going to have to defeat the boss before we can level up."

Sanderson's gun, an NCIS-issue weapon, lay where it had clattered to the floor. Ducky unclipped the holster from Sanderson's belt and attached it to his own waistband, making sure it was concealed beneath his suit jacket.

"Do you know how to shoot?" Maggie asked warily.

"Twelve years in the RAMC – we did get weapons training," Ducky said as he carefully picked up the weapon.

"Which was thirty or more years ago," Maggie said, getting to her feet.

"I know - God forbid I should actually have to use this tonight." Ducky stood up. "Keep that letter opener close – it's saved our lives once already."

Maggie pretend-brandished the letter opener as she and Ducky ran for the stairs.

 **xNCISx**

Meanwhile, out on the interstate, Gibbs's phone beeped, and Randall put it on speakerphone for him. "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Gibbs! Palmer and I ran the prints that we found on Ducky's phone. We've got a match," Abby said eagerly. "Our second kidnapper is Rebecca Parker, thirty-two, lives in Falls Church."

"Parker? Is she somehow connected to that consulting firm?" Randall asked.

"Yes. She's the daughter of one of the partners, and she works there in some kind of supervisory position."

"And she's got a record, too," Palmer chimed in. "Third-degree assault and battery, theft, extortion and…"

"Yeah, that's good work, you two," Gibbs cut in. "We're coming up on Fairfax. We'll keep you posted!"

 **xNCISx**

The front door had an alarm system, but it was deactivated. Maggie flipped the lock on the front door and propped it open slightly. "So they'll think we ran outside if they came downstairs," she explained.

"Good, very good," Ducky said as he nervously looked around the darkened lobby, with its shadows that concealed unknown dangers.

"We'll have to take the back stairs," he whispered.

"How can you…" Maggie began.

"Look. The dust on the carpet." Ducky pointed to the front staircase. "They're in the habit of taking this one."

Maggie and Ducky headed up the back stairwell with slow, padding steps, both keeping alert for any sign of movement from upstairs.

The stairwell ended at a doorway leading onto the third floor.

They could see a light on in an office in the middle of the hallway, and they could hear Taylor and Parker's voices.

"What do we do?" Maggie whispered.

"Wait here until they go looking for Sanderson," Ducky whispered back. "Sooner or later they'll wonder why he hasn't come back upstairs."

The seconds seemed to tick by with agonizing slowness. But at last, Taylor and Parker exited the office and headed for the front-facing stairwell.

Maggie and Ducky waited an extra few seconds, just to make sure. Then they ran-walked down the corridor to the office.

The office contained a large desk, three chairs and a filing cabinet. On the desk were a few papers, Taylor's blackthorn walking stick…and a phone.

Ducky closed the door and flipped the lock. Then he and Maggie began pushing chairs against the door to barricade it. They tried to move the desk and filing cabinet, but both items were too heavy.

Ducky picked up the phone, and rejoiced to hear a dial tone on the other end. Quickly, he tapped out Gibbs's cell number.

"Gibbs!"

"Jethro, it's Ducky!"

"Duck! Thank God! Are you two all right? Where are you!" Gibbs demanded all in one breath.

"Maggie's fine - we're fine, both of us!" Ducky said. "Listen. Sanderson – he's a traitor. He's been…"

"Yes, Duck, we know. It's a long story. Where are you?"

"All right, listen carefully. We're on the top floor of an office building on the outskirts of Fairfax, probably a few minutes from the interstate. The address is 1451…"

As Ducky quickly recited the address, Maggie turned her attention to the items on the desk.

She reached for Taylor's walking stick and picked it up, feeling the heft of it in her hand. As she did so, she heard a clinking noise inside the stick's silver knob.

Was there something inside it?

There was a piece of paper beneath the walking stick.

A bill of lading, from Hourglass Antiques, signed by Philip Martin. A bill of lading for a cherry wood lap desk that was being shipped overseas.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw movement down on the sidewalk outside.

"Donnie, get away from the window!" she screamed.

Ducky had only a second to get away before a bullet shattered the glass into a million little pieces. He dropped to the floor as shards of glass rained down on him.

"Donnie!" Maggie dropped to her knees beside him.

"I'm all right!" Ducky gasped. "But the barbarians are going to be at the gates any moment now!"

 **xNCISx**

Gibbs had heard the shot on his end.

"Duck! What was that!" Gibbs demanded.

"Jethro! Hurry!" There was no disguising the panic in Ducky's voice.

"What's going on?" Randall demanded.

"Taylor's shooting at them!" Gibbs shouted.

The convoy put on an extra burst of speed as it passed the "City of Fairfax" sign.

 **xNCISx**

Stay tuned! The big showdown will be in the next chapter!


	18. Rescue

**Chapter Eighteen: Rescue**

They could hear footsteps hurtling down the hallway.

"Quickly – into the corner, over there!" Ducky whispered loudly.

He and Maggie crawled from behind the desk over to the corner nearest to the filing cabinet.

It was then that Maggie realized that she was still holding Taylor's walking stick.

The door shuddered violently and something – or someone – started hammering at it.

"Open the damn door!" Taylor roared. The door rattled again as Taylor and Parker either kicked it or pounded at it with their fists.

Maggie looked frantically at Ducky. "How long do you think we have?"

"That door's reinforced, and the chairs will slow them down. It's only a problem if…"

A gunshot blasted at the door, causing them both to nearly jump out of their skins.

"They start shooting through the door," Ducky finished, his face pale.

 **xNCISx**

"There it is, first driveway to the right!" Randall shouted into her phone.

Gibbs slammed on the gas and practically burned rubber as he made a sharp turn into the driveway, the rest of the convoy in behind him.

The police cars and NCIS vehicles swarmed in around the building like ants converging on a picnic.  
Agents and police officers jumped out, vests on and guns drawn.

"Fornell, you and your people go around the back. We'll take the front entrance," Gibbs said.

"Sacks! Crenshaw! Let's move!" Fornell waved to the rest of the team.

Gibbs, Tony, Bishop and McGee were off and running toward the front door.

Sacks's voice came over the walkie-talkie on Gibbs's belt.

"Gibbs, it's Sacks. There's a light on and a broken window on the third floor. Window looks like it's been shot out."

The team swarmed into the lobby, guns out.

"Clear!" one of the FBI agents yelled.

"I'll take my people down to the basement, and we'll get Sanderson," Randall said firmly.

"Bishop. DiNozzo. McGee. Front staircase," Gibbs said, tilting his head.

Randall and a team of agents and police went running down to the basement.

Sanderson was just starting to stir.

"Ergh…what…" he blinked, and snapped awake as he realized that his wrists and ankles were bound. "Randall! Thank God! Listen. I can explain everything…"

"Save it for the interrogation room, Sanderson," Randall said coldly. "I don't even know half of what you were doing behind NCIS's back, but you've betrayed the agency, your colleagues and the badge." She leaned in closer. "And if Dr. Mallard and Maggie Clarke had even a hair harmed on their heads as a result of what you did, I will personally lock you up and throw away the key."

"Randall, you don't understand, I had to…"

"Read him his rights, Perez."

Perez cleared her throat as they untied Sanderson and put handcuffs on him. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be held against you in a court of law…"

"Hey, look at his arm," Breuer suddenly said, pointing to a gash and a bloodstain on Sanderson's upper arm. "Looks like Wolverine did a number on him."

"Watch him until the EMTs get here." Randall took out her gun. "I'm going upstairs."

 **xNCISx**

Maggie and Ducky clung to each other as another gunshot rocked the door. This one almost penetrated.

"Dammit, Parker, you're doing it all wrong!" Taylor snapped.

"Fine! You do it! I'm through doing your bidding, Taylor!" Parker yelled.

A thought occurred to Maggie. It'd be like kicking the hornets nest, but…

"You have a very interesting walking stick, Mr. Taylor! Irish blackthorn, I believe? I've appraised sticks like these!" she blurted out.

This remark seemed to catch Taylor off guard. "What the hell?" he demanded.

"It's a hollow-top cane, I can tell!" Maggie continued to shout. "And it has something in it! Is it valuable?"

A bullet blasted through the lock, and the door started to sway as Taylor and Parker pushed and kicked at it.

Ducky slowly, very slowly, reached for the gun at his hip. But he knew that the odds were very much not in their favor.

 _This is it. This is the end. There is no way that door can hold…_

"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!" came a familiar voice from down the hallway.

 **xNCISx**

Gibbs and his team ran up the stairs two at a time until they came to the stop of the stairwell on the third floor.

They could hear noises: gunshots and banging noises.

Tony switched on his flashlight and aimed it down the hallway, just as the FBI team arrived up the opposite staircase.

Taylor and Parker were trying to kick and/or shoot their way into an office in the middle of the hallway.

"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!" Gibbs roared.

"Go to hell, Gibbs!" Taylor yelled as he turned the gun on Gibbs.

"You first!"

 **xNCISx**

Maggie and Ducky waited, with bated breath, for the gunfire and the hullabaloo outside the office to subside. Then they started moving the chairs away from the door, and cautiously opened it.

Bishop and McGee had a struggling Parker pinned to the wall.

Taylor was spread-eagled on the floor, cursing, as Gibbs and Tony clapped handcuffs on him.

The rest of the hallway was filled with law enforcement agents, catching their breaths and putting their weapons back in their holsters.

"Duck. Maggie. You two okay?"

"Hello, Jethro," Ducky said with undisguised relief.

 **xNCISx**

"Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh…" Abby had run into the elevator and enveloped Maggie and Ducky in a hug the moment the doors opened. And it didn't seem as if she would be letting go any time soon.

"Abby, my dear, don't forget to breathe," Maggie said gently.

"I'm not done oh my goshing yet!" Abby said. "When I think about what Taylor and his gang of baddies did to you it makes me – gahhh!"

"Ducky!" Palmer was practically vaulting over the desks, Breena right behind him. "Maggie!"

"Wait your turn, Jimmy!" Abby said.

"Oh, Abigail, there's plenty of room in this group hug for two more," Ducky chided her good-naturedly.

Palmer and Breena scooted into the elevator and joined the hug-fest now in progress.

"What happened? Tell us everything!" Palmer demanded.

"Well, Mr. Palmer, on a scale of one to ten, with one being a routine day in autopsy and ten being that wretched meat puzzle affair, I'd rate this evening as about a seven!"

Maggie gave Ducky an incredulous look. "Meat puzzle?"

"I'll explain later," Ducky said.

Taylor and Parker had been taken to separate interrogation rooms, where they were now receiving a well-deserved grilling. Sanderson was being interrogated too, at the hospital.

Maggie and Ducky had been examined by EMTs at the crime scene. Both of them had just finished giving victim/witness statements to a team of FBI agents and state police troopers in the conference room. And Ducky had returned Sanderson's gun and badge to Randall before the convoy started back to headquarters.

"Hey, guys, I hate to break up the love-fest," Gibbs said as he poked his head into the elevator, "but I need one of you to tell me how this cane opens up." He held up Taylor's walking stick.

"I do believe that is your forte, Maggie," Ducky said.

"It appears to be a hollow-top cane," Maggie said as she stepped off the elevator. "I believe it's supposed to unscrew – yes, that way."

Gibbs unscrewed the knob as Maggie directed and shook the cane. A flash drive fell out into his palm.

"McGee."

"On it, boss." McGee grabbed the flash drive and plugged it into his computer.

 **xNCISx**

"Let me get this straight. They sent the money overseas to the account site, packed inside furniture or antiques?" Vance asked incredulously.

"Yeah, evidently Taylor was a little skittish about using wire transfers – I guess he knew that the feds would be keeping their eyes out for large amounts of cash going out that way," McGee said.

"The lap desk…" Bishop began.

"That was apparently Martin's idea," McGee said.

"Money stashed inside pieces of furniture. Canes with flash drives in them," Tony said as he parked his feet up on his desk. "You can't make this stuff up."

"What's it say about the money?" Gibbs asked.

"Some of it's from Downing…he was getting a little light-fingered at the bank. Some of it's from Martin. He took some cash out of one of Hourglass's business accounts..." Bishop frowned as she leaned over McGee's shoulder. "He was also sneaking antiques out of Hourglass's stock and selling them for his own gain."

"But the lion's share of the cash was the Navy money that Taylor stole," McGee said. He clicked on something else. "And here's the icing on the cake. Taylor was planning to cut off access to the account to his partners and keep all the money for himself. Between the original cash, the other deposits and the interest, that's about six mil."

"You run around with dogs, don't be surprised if you get fleas," Tony said.

"That's an insult to dogs," Gibbs retorted.

"Excuse me, Agent Gibbs – there's a woman downstairs who's been demanding to see you," a security guard said.

"Show her up."

Julia came trotting over from the elevators. She spotted Maggie and promptly engulfed her in a hug.

"Maggie…oh, my dear, I've been so terrified for you!" She turned to Ducky and gave him a hug next before stepping back and giving him a very stern look. "Donnie Mallard, why couldn't you have chosen a less dangerous profession?"

"Now, Julia, I…"

"Mrs. Bradley, did your store sell anything like a lap desk? 1870s, made from cherry wood?" Gibbs cut in.

"Why…yes, there's one that's been missing from our stock." Julia looked confused. "But how…"

"Your business partner was using it to smuggle money. And speaking of money, it looks as if he also took a few thousand dollars out of one of your business accounts," McGee said, pointing to his computer.

"It also looks like Martin was taking a few other antiques out of your stock and selling them for his own gain," Bishop said.

Mrs. Bradley read over the figures on the screen, and her eyes narrowed. "If Philip isn't already dead, I'll go to the hospital and kill him myself."

"I think there's been enough killing in this case already," Vance said, looking at his watch. "Now if you'll all excuse me, SECNAV's going to want a report."

Ducky and Maggie had wandered over to the panorama window and were gazing out at the Navy ship.

Maggie took a deep shuddering breath, remembering all the night's traumas. She and Ducky slipped their arms around each other and held each other close.

"I'm not sure how you do it, Donnie," Maggie whispered.

"I'm not entirely sure myself, my dear," Ducky whispered back. "I certainly wasn't joking when I told you about the emotional baggage."

"Well, in terms of emotional baggage, this will be worth a steamer trunk and matching valise, at least," Maggie said.

"Speaking of baggage…" Ducky began.

Gibbs came up at that moment, keys in hand. "I'll drive you two back to Georgetown. I think you two have had enough excitement for one night."

The three headed for the elevators. "When's your flight home, Maggie?" Gibbs asked.

"The day after tomorrow," Maggie said. "I'm afraid that my travels here were much too short." She looked wistful. "If only there was a way to extend it…"

The three of them rode the elevator down in silence.

"There's a re-booking option with your tickets, is there not?" Ducky asked.

"Yes, there is…" Maggie pursed her lips. "Perhaps I could get Abby to help me with…"

The elevator whooshed open in the lobby. Gibbs turned and faced Maggie and Ducky.

"Take a few days off, Duck." He grinned. "And that's an order, not a suggestion."

 **xNCISx**

Last chapter up next!


	19. Better Late Than Never

And here we are, at the last chapter! As we shall see, Ducky and Maggie finally get some uninterrupted time together, as we close the book on this particular adventure...

 **Chapter Nineteen: Better Late Than Never**

 _Donald Mallard's house, Georgetown, March 10_

Maggie headed for the staircase, blinking the last bits of sleep from her eyes, as she slipped her bright blue raw silk robe on over her loose-fitting green satin pajamas.

She heard a whistling noise coming from the kitchen as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Entering, she found Ducky removing the kettle from the burner as he turned off the heat.

He was wearing a dark blue bathrobe over his blue-and-white striped pajamas and brown felt slippers, and his usually side-parted hair was now falling over his forehead.

"Morning, darling," Maggie said in a sing-song voice as she came over and gave Ducky a peck on the cheek.

"Good morning, _mon ange_ ," Ducky said as he returned the kiss. "Did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly well, considering the unpleasantness of a few nights ago. And yourself?"

"About the same. I was thinking that we might have our tea outside, since it's finally stopped raining."

"That sounds perfectly lovely."

Ducky reached into the cupboard and brought out the tea leaves and the timer as Maggie set the teapot and two cups on a tray. Then they headed through the French doors and into the back courtyard, where they settled themselves down on the wrought-iron garden bench and drank their tea in companionable silence for a little bit.

The temperatures had moderated slightly over the past few days, and the rain band that had been hovering over the capital region had finally disappeared. The first spring bulbs were starting to break through the soil, and buds were visible on the trees.

The scene was a far cry from the terrors of three nights before. It would be a while before either of them would be completely over it, but it was starting to melt away like the wisps of a bad dream.

It had been close to midnight by the time Gibbs had dropped them both back at the townhouse after they'd left NCIS headquarters. They'd stopped at The Eyrie first so Maggie could go up to her room and throw a few things – her pajamas and robe, toiletries and a change of clothes – into a tote bag.

The next morning, Maggie had gone back to The Eyrie, collected the rest of her luggage and checked out.

 _And here we are,_ Maggie thought, _having our tea in the garden like an old married couple…_

"It's Jethro, isn't it?" she asked as something suddenly occurred to her.

Ducky looked up from his tea, confused. "I'm sorry?"

Maggie set her cup down. "I remember asking you, during our little talk along the river, why you'd never married. You told me that a close friend of yours had lost his soulmate and then repeatedly married the wrong woman in a quest to find her again." She gave Ducky a meaningful look. "Was it Jethro you were referring to?"

"Indeed he was." Ducky said. "Although I can't begin to fathom how you figured that out."

"Well, it is clear that the two of you are the best of friends, besides being colleagues," Maggie said. "He has the look of a man who has been repeatedly, and badly, disappointed in love." She picked her tea back up and gazed into it for a moment before taking another sip. "Let's just say that with my history with Angus, it is a look that I am all too familiar with."

"Ah, that explains it now."

"What happened with him?" Maggie asked.

"Well, it's a story that's not really mine to tell." Ducky leaned back against the bench and gazed up at the trees in the courtyard. "But years ago, before I met him, he was married to a lady named Shannon. They had one child – a little girl named Kelly." He paused. "He lost them both under very tragic circumstances."

Maggie shook her head. "That must have nearly killed him."

"Oh, it almost did…but it's too nice a morning to be telling sad stories, so let's change the subject," Ducky said. "What were you and Julia talking about yesterday?"

"Quite a few things, actually," Maggie said. "To put it simply, she is in need of a new business partner at Hourglass."

"Not surprising, seeing as her former associate is now facing the prospect of a longish spell in prison," Ducky said dryly. "Has she made you an offer?"

"She has. I told her that I would need some time to think about it – it would be a very big transition on my part. But I did tell her that it was a rather attractive offer." She smiled. "For more than one reason."

"It is your call, of course. Granted, it would be much easier for us to see each other if we were on the same side of the Atlantic."

"I did tell her, however, that one condition of my joining her was that we had to hire a new accounting firm to do the shop's books," Maggie said firmly. "Having large sums of money vanish undetected – quite unacceptable."

Inside, the clock in the hallway began striking the hour.

"What time are we expected to present ourselves at headquarters to say goodbye to everyone?" Maggie asked.

"Abby said any time around ten or eleven. That will leave us with enough time to get to Union Station afterwards."

At that particular moment, Maggie's luggage – her suitcase and laptop bag – was stacked by the hall table.

And there was another suitcase with it: Ducky's.

 **xNCISx**

The team was rattling off must-see places nine to the dozen.

"…totally worth it. And then there's this place in Chinatown that makes the best lychee ice cream you've ever tasted, oh, my mouth's watering just thinking about it now!" Abby groaned. "And then farther uptown, there's this other place that…"

"And if you're anywhere near Lincoln Center, you've got to take a _Moonstruck_ photo by the fountain!" Bishop chimed in.

"Ah, _Moonstruck_ – one of Cher and Nicolas Cage's finest moments," Tony said with gusto. "Now for me, no visit's complete without the cinematic goodness that is the Paley Center, and you've got to check out…"

"All right, you three, slow down," Gibbs chimed in.

There was a train departing for New York later that afternoon, and Maggie would be on it. But this time, Ducky would be with her.

The plan was for them to spend a few days in the city, and maybe a little bit of time on Long Island or in New Jersey. At the end of the trip, Ducky would see Maggie off on her rescheduled Monday night flight out of JFK, and then take the train back to D.C. the next morning.

"Maggie, it was nice to meet you," Vance said. "Hopefully your next visit won't be nearly as crazy."

"There'd better not be any more craziness for you two, because McGoo's putting you in his next book!" Tony said.

"I am not – Tony, what are you talking about?" McGee asked indignantly.

"Oh, so the famous doctor "Goosey" Gosling and his girlfriend Margaret Parks are just coincidences then?" Tony asked as the room erupted in laughter and McGee did a facepalm.

It was a welcome break from talking about the case. A lot of secrets had emerged in the past few days.

Sanderson and Taylor had actually been old family friends, years before.

The whole sticky mess had started with a meeting over coffee at a diner in Arlington, right before Taylor's "death."

Taylor had needed someone inside NCIS to make sure the investigation into the theft went in the wrong direction…and Sanderson had been in a sticky spot with his family's mortgage. Taylor needed a set of eyes and ears, and Sanderson needed the money.

Sanderson had nothing to do with Downing's killing; it had definitely been Taylor who pulled the trigger. But Sanderson was well aware, as Parker had been, of where Downing's body had been buried.

No one at NCIS could fathom how Sanderson had managed to keep a secret like that from everyone over the past three years. But Taylor had been ready to destroy Sanderson's career if he said anything; the data on the flash drive was proof of that.

In the meantime, Randall announced that Perez was about to be promoted to a full agent, and that she had a new "probie" joining the team. "It's Riordan, that kid who interned with us last year. He's excited to come back on board," she said.

As Maggie and Ducky were exchanging a few last good-bye hugs and handshakes with the team, Gibbs came up, car keys in hand.

"Let's go, you two, you've got a train to catch," Gibbs said.

"I will be back on Tuesday morning. Mr. Palmer, if any of our guests start to become unruly, do not hesitate to call," Ducky said.

"Sure thing, Dr. Mallard. Have a good trip," Palmer said.

Maggie and Ducky followed Gibbs to the elevator.

"Come back soon! We miss you already!" Abby called.

 **xNCISx**

"Now boarding on Track Five at Gate Seven, Amtrak Acela Express to Boston, making intermediate stops at BWI Airport, Baltimore, Wilmington, Philadelphia, Trenton…"

The throng of passengers started pushing and nudging their way through the double doors leading down to the platform level.

In a car near the front of the train, Maggie and Ducky stacked their larger luggage in the luggage rack in the vestibule. They found two seats in the center of the car and promptly claimed them as the other seats started to fill up.

Ducky took off his trench coat and stuck it up in the overhead rack, and did the same with Maggie's coat as she handed it up to him.

A few minutes later, the train moved forward with a slight lurch. It started crawling through the tangled silver web of tracks in the train yard as it made its way out of Union Station.

Maggie and Ducky settled back in their seats and watched the parked trains and the signal towers go by. But their minds were on something else.

Over the years, both of them had wished, off and on, that they could go back in time and create an alternate ending to that day in St. Pancras Station all those years ago: An ending that had the girl in the green coat arrive at the station with a suitcase and her old floral print carryall bag, and walk down to the tracks with the boy in the suit and the bow tie.

Obviously they couldn't go back in time and change that day or any of the intervening forty-five years.

But this was the next best thing.

"All tickets and IDs out for inspection!" The conductor entered the car and started down the aisle, ticket scanner in hand.

Maggie handed over her passport, and Ducky his driver's license, when the conductor reached their seats. A few beeps, and the conductor handed the tickets and IDs back. "Enjoy your trip."

As Ducky slipped his driver's license back into his wallet, a sliver of red in one of the pockets caught his eye.

He grasped it with his thumb and forefinger and gingerly pulled it out.

A long-expired Eurail pass.

 _"_ _I'm not sure if it's still good," Ducky had said._

 _"_ _Maybe it is?" Maggie had asked._

 _All too soon, Bishop was at the corner, calling, "Ducky! Ride's here!"_

 _Ducky put one of the passes in Maggie's hand. Her fingers carefully closed around it._

Maggie glanced over at Ducky. Then she slowly reached into her purse and unzipped the small inner pouch for small valuables.

There was a sliver of red in there too, and she pulled it out.

Two long-expired Eurail passes, side-by-side, representing a wish that had taken a long time to come true.

"Better late than never," Maggie whispered.

Ducky reached for her hand, and she gave his hand a squeeze.

The train sped on, heading for tracks yet untraveled and places yet to be discovered.

 **xNCISx**

The end...for now!

Thanks for reading - reviews welcome!


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